


I Dream of Dead Mom

by Catipurr



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Vocaloid
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dreams and Nightmares, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Musicals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catipurr/pseuds/Catipurr
Summary: It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Charles Deetz & Delia Deetz & Lydia Deetz, Lydia Deetz & Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland
Comments: 71
Kudos: 167
Collections: Fanfiction Writers United Musical Collection, Favorite Beetlejuice Writings, General musical based fics, Musical Fanfiction





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Strap in, everyone; this is what happens when you and your-equally-obsessed best friend start wondering outside of the musical’s stated canon.

Lydia was pretty sure it was bad how numb she’d grown to this particular nightmare. 

But there were only so many times she could grieve over this day; the funeral of her Dead Mom. It was scary, at first, not to feel as distraught as she did in the past. Part of her thought this was the first step into her worst fear imaginable. Then again, Lydia knew, deep down, Dead Mom wouldn’t want her throwing life away. Still, it was unnerving, to say the least.  
The scene was etched into her memory, impossible to forget, as every detail remained the same with each visit she made. An overcast sky as depressing as the people veiled in black, the stoic face of Daddy, staring off into a thought--a feeling--Lydia only recently got to see. Then there was the casket, dangling over a pit in the ground, ready and eager to swallow Mama whole.

Lydia herself was always in the middle of Daddy and her younger self, a drab and dreary girl with tumbling dark hair and tears heavier than the downpour. Hands clenched over Little Lydia’s chest as they shared the same thought; maybe, just maybe, Mama would suddenly lift the lid and ask someone to pass an umbrella. She’d breathe life back into everyone’s chest, brighten the sky instantly with that coy smile Lydia had seen in so many framed pictures. If she was lucky, there were days she’d catch herself making a perfect copy in the mirror.   
The priest’s blessing was a mumble in the background, either due to the rule of dreams or Lydia’s own fuzzy memory. Everything started to skip after that, like an old video cassette that was wound back by a drunk baby. Skip--the coffin began it’s jittery descent into the ground.

Skip--people began dispersing, cars starting and vanishing just as quickly.

Skip--Daddy’s umbrella partially angled, hiding Little Lydia’s face as they slugged through the mud. 

Skip--Little Lydia stared out the back window of the family’s car, Daddy in mid-turn as the car readied to pull away. 

“It’s just such a great reminder, you know?” Lydia’s arms crossed over her chest, slowly walking beside the jittery car as she blankly stared at her younger self. Her voice adopted a high-pitched tone, a sugary-sweet grin cutting across her face. “Heey, Lydia, it’s the Universe calling! Just wanted to put this on repeat so you don’t forget about the worst day of your life. Kay, thanks, bye.” A scowl quickly settled in place, herself propping against the car as the ‘cassette’ froze in place. “Delia was right; the Universe is female. Only a bitch would think this is funny to watch.” 

She glanced through the tinted window, expression softening at little Lydia’s tear-stained face. It wasn't true, though. Not really. Emily Deetz may be dead and gone, but she still had a Mom. Two, actually, and she wouldn’t trade Delia or Barbara for anything. Two Moms, two Dads, a weird uncle-slash-hellspawn whom she’d wish would be allowed visiting rights.  
“Promise it gets better, kid.” Her hand rested against the window, overshadowing little Lydia’s easily. It was a stark reminder how long it had really been, how much she’d grown. That used to be terrifying, but now it was comforting. She was overcoming it. She wasn’t alone anymore. Invisible.   
Lydia blinked, squinting at the window. Her hand slid away, going to rub her eyes. 

Was that…?

No. It couldn’t be. 

Her heart skipped in her chest as she took a step back, trying to get a better look at what she saw. Little Lydia’s face distorted in the tint of the glass as a whole horde of others suddenly appeared. They were too far away to get details--her dream refused to let her turn her head for a better look--but one in particular stuck out. Short, stocky, a mess of bright green hair perfectly styled with a millennia of grime and grease. It kept dipping in and out of the window’s frame, but there was no way Lydia could mistake that pinstripe monstrosity. 

“Beetlejuice?”

Lydia was suddenly upright, staring at a wall adorned with an eclectic collection of out-of-date Halloween decorations. The pitter-patter of rain plucked against her window, moonlight spilling in to say, yes, you did just wake up in the middle of the night, and you ain’t getting back to sleep easily.  
She rubbed her eyes, trying to hold fast to the slivers of her dream slipping away. Was that him? Actually him? He was never there before; Lydia had that dream over a hundred times and only now did she notice him. There was just no way she was that insensible, right?

“Beetlejuice..?”

Lydia bit her lip, the word worming its way out before she could stop it. Her shoulders hunched, finely-tuned to every creak and groan the old hilltop house made. No one came bursting in her room, chided her for even thinking about summoning that, ‘demonic pervert’. Daddy slept like a rock, anyway, and even if he was roused, it was probably in due part to Delia’s sleep-chanting. The Maitlands didn’t really sleep (as far as Lydia knew), but, and as much as she fully endorsed them as ghost parents, they didn’t quite have that sixth sense to know when their loving little girl was awake. Or getting into trouble.   
Besides, Beej wouldn’t be here for very long. Not long enough for anyone to know, anyway. Lydia would just ask him about the dream and he’d be on his way. Easy as that.   
Of course, if he wanted a snack, she’d be obligated as hostess to offer him something from the kitchen. And given how cold it was getting, what kind of person would she be if she didn’t heat up any hot chocolate to go with the snack?   
It would be rude not to catch up, either; a bio-exorcist probably had a lot of exciting stories to share and how many other breathers could he tell them to?

She looked to the left.

Then the right. 

Fluffed up a few pillows so she could sit up comfortably.

God, but she almost shouted the name out in glee, just barely managing to get it out in a whisper. 

“Beeeetlejuice~?”

She waited in silence, a brief squig of panic overtaking her chest. Did she say it too slowly? Maybe that was a new addition to the curse? She wouldn’t put it past Juno to do something like that. Her blankets were squeezed in her fist; where was he?  
Lydia’s skin crawled as something tapped her on the shoulder. She grinned, turning her head to face the ghost with the most, still wearing that horribly-crooked, pinstripe suit as he sat on the corner of her bed, one hand underneath his chin like someone who’d just heard a delicious tidbit of gossip. 

“Why are we whispering?” Beetlejuice asked in his own, gravelly undertone, with a sneer on his face. “It’s almost like you don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

“Hardly.” Lydia replied coolly, hands folding over her lap as she turned her head away in mock-disgust. “Don’t you know all the best things happen under one’s breath?” After a moment, she turned back to him, both cracking out in a fit of giggles. “Can I invite you to our kitchen, good sir?” She offered her hand like a lady would to a gentleman guest. “I’m sure I saw a cockroach or two underneath the fridge with your name on it.”

Beetlejuice adopted an air of snobbery, nose upright as took Lydia’s hand. It was freezing cold, a touch grimy--Lydia swore she felt something crawl across her knuckles--she so desperately missed it. “I would be quite humbled, m’lady, to partake in the snacking of all things grotesque within the confines of your eatery.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia shares in some kitchen hi-jinks with her favorite demon-uncle-slash-brother.

It was hard staying quiet on the way down to the kitchen. The house already supplied its own sound effects, but between the duo’s giggling and shushing, Lydia was amazed they made it down without a single peep from anyone else. She opted to keep the lights off, pulling the curtains aside so only the moon was witness to their shenaniganry. Beetlejuice wasted no time making himself at home; at some point during their descent, he’d changed into a pair of striped, feetie pajamas, one of those old sleeper caps popped over his head (though unable to contain the massive beast that was his hair). 

“Alright, up yah go!” He waved a black-nailed hand to the fridge, who wasted no time growing a pair of legs and hiking themselves up off the ground. A number of multi-legged creatures made a mad dash to another corner of the house, only to get scooped up and shoved into Beetlejuice’s nightcap. “Aw, hell yeah!” He stuck his hand into the cap, digging around like a kid with a bag of Halloween candy. “Got a few spiders here, my promised cockroaches, and--” he plucked out a garter snake in between his thumb and forefinger, grinning like an idiot as his hair turned a brighter, more neon-green. “Lyds, you shouldn’t have~!”

“Thought it’d be a nice surprise if I ever got you back here.” Lydia hopped up onto the counter, pushing a few boxes of herbal tea aside as she snagged a tin of hot chocolate. “Not that I have to ask, but,” she gave the container a shake, holding it out so Beetlejuice could see it. 

“Uh, yeah, why _did_ you even ask?” The snake vanished back into his cap as Beetlejuice crammed it back on his head. “There are suffocating children in Africa who could’ve used that air you wasted, Lydia. Jesus.” 

Lydia giggled, gently dropping back to the floor with the tin in hand. “Oh, so sad. Someone should cry me a river.” A snort slipped out as a gush of water nearly knocked her off her feet, originating from the plucked eyeballs of the demon himself. “Beej, _sshhhh!_ Shut off the waterworks before someone hears.”

His lip stuck out in a pout, eyes blinking in the palm of his hands. “I still feel dirty trying to marry you, Lyds, but at least I wasn’t the boyfriend you snuck through the window.”

“Sorry, BJ.” The apology came out sincere as Lydia snagged two mugs from the sink. “You know I’d throw the front door open to you if I could.” She ran the cups through the flood of water, reaching for a spoon as two suddenly appeared and started scooping out the perfect amount of chocolate powder. “Thanks.”

Beetlejuice grinned, a snap of fire appearing underneath the mugs as Lydia brought them to the table. The water had since been sucked back into his eyes, which had similarly since been popped back into his sockets. “‘If you could’? When’d you start tying your shoelaces straight, goody-goody?”

“You know, statistics show untied laces are a fast-track to breaking one’s neck.” Lydia said. 

A single brow rose from Beetlejuice as, without hesitation, he took his still on-fire cup of hot chocolate. 

Lydia sighed, slumping back in her chair. “Okay, but I actually _like_ Daddy now. And the Maitlands,”

“That one’s just a requirement.” Beetlejuice pointed out, a pink tinge creeping around his roots.

“And Delia,” Lydia continued, snorting back a laugh as a flow of molten chocolate flowed out of Beetlejuice’s mouth from surprise. “I do, really! We’re a nest of eclectic birds, now, and I quite enjoy it. In comparison to how it was a few months ago,” she took her own cup, surprised to find the fire only warm to the touch. “It’s nice.”  
She glanced back up, finding Beetlejuice staring at her with a somewhat-unsettling somber look. The tips of his hair had started to turn purple as well, only making Lydia feel worse. “Oh, no,” she pushed her cup away and stood, rounding the table to give her favorite demon a squeezing hug. “It’s never any fun without you, Beej! You were literally the only reason I stuck around this place.” 

Beetlejuice’s hair began returning to its typical shade. “Well, yeah, of course. Who else could’ve caught you if you decided to swan-dive of the roof?” His arms wrapped a few times around Lydia’s waist, a sharp-tooth grin spread across his face. “These are the arms of a professional noodle-man, after all.”

“You’re more like a squat pizza-box.” Lydia cackled at Beetlejuice’s face, the two soon dissolving into a fit of giggles. “I just gotta get them to see you as I do. It’s a multi-step plan, but I’m making it happen”

“Normally, I’d call bullshit,” Beetlejuice began. “But who am I to doubt the only breather to come back from the Netherworld in one piece?” Eventually, he picked Lydia up and plopped her back in her chair, slurping the last of his hot chocolate before biting into the rim. “So then, kid,” he asked as bits of the ceramic cup spilled out from his mouth. “What’s tonight’s visit all about? Is this Step 1, or you just lookin to blow off steam?”

Right. The dream. Lydia straightened herself up in her chair, hands folded on top of the table. “Actually, I need to ask you about something.”

“Oh. It’s business, then?” Away went his pajamas and back was his suit, hair slicked back as a pair of thick-rimmed glasses covered Beetlejuice’s face. He shuffled through a stack of papers that came literally from thin air, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he cleared his throat (not that it did much). “Well, I gotta admit, my numbers have been slacking a bit, boss. After that brillant double-cross-slash-murder on your part, it took a few weeks to actually get all my credentials back in order. I technically died again, so,” He pushed his glasses back up, a pen appearing in a poof of smoke. “No ill-will between us, of course; that snake under the fridge will adequately compensate for any distress on my part.” 

Lydia’s giggle was weaker than she wanted it to be. She knew he truly didn’t mind, but it was weird to see someone so nonchalant about being tricked like that. Of course, he’d done his own share of tricking, so in his mind, they must’ve been even. “Beetlejuice,”

“Ooh, full name.” His hands shoved everything off the table--mug included, though he had the sense to let it shatter silently against the ground--and Beetlejuice was suddenly at full attention. “This _is_ serious.” 

Lydia took a deep breath. “I wanted to ask about a dream I had. Well, been having. About Mama.” She paused, somewhat unnerved how Beetlejuice’s expression hadn’t shifted. He really was focused on every word she said. “It’s been the same for weeks, until tonight. I was just curious if you’d been, I dunno,” she started fiddling with a strand of short-cropped hair. “Do you have some sort of power over dreams?”

Beetlejuice tapped a finger against his chin. “Sure I do, kid. That’s the easiest way to scare a breather out of their house.” His face suddenly shifted, hair quickly turning a stark yellow. “Woah, woah, wait--I haven’t been doing it to you, though! I’ve got some standards,” He added, straightening the cuffs of his sleeve. “Dead Mom stuff isn’t a line I cross as liberally as others.”

Lydia smiled softly, “Yeah, I know. I was mostly wondering about tonight’s iteration. It was,” she hesitated for a moment, but most of it was already out on the table. “Well, you were there.” 

“Lyds.” Beetlejuice held one hand up while the other covered his chest. “I swear on my non-existent heart that I haven’t been taking joyrides in your dreams.”

Lydia frowned; as much as she appreciated the respect he had for her, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Well, is it possible we met before, then?”

“I think I’d remember one of the only breathers who can see me without saying my name.” Beetlejuice kicked his feet up onto the table, hands folded behind his back. His hair was a mixture of colors--his usual green, a touch of white, some bits of red, a hint of purple--as he mulled it over. “You sure you weren’t just missing me?”

“But, it was so accurate,” Lydia insisted. “Right up to the point I saw you. Every bit was just how it happened, right down to the place I stood that day.”

Beetlejuice rolled his head, neck cracking loudly and causing Lydia a to wince. “Dreams are weird, kid. Memories even weirder. Everyone remembers stuff different, yah know? Hence the whole, ‘us sneaking around’ bit.” 

Lydia’s chest deflated. Was he, of all people, really not taking her seriously about this?

“I mean, there’s one sure-fire way to settle this.” He sat up, a smirk crossing his face. “It requires a bit of skullduggery on your part, but I doubt _the_ Lydia Deetz would be scared of a lil’ bit of stickyfingerin.” 

_Now_ he had her attention. She leaned across the table, hands folded delicately under her chin. “I’m listening. What did you have in mind, Beej~?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia does some burgling and shares a tender moment with her living parents.

Lydia couldn’t believe _this_ is what he had in mind. It wasn’t hard to sneak into her parents’ room, per se, but for a guy who teased her for fostering a bond with Delia, Beetlejuice sure was insistent on getting some of her gemstones.

“Not all of her tumbled-rock crockery is, well, a crock,” Beetlejuice explained. “Some natural stuff makes for great energy conduits between this world and the Netherworld.”

“But, we’re not going to the Netherworld. Unless...” Lydia’s question trailed off, nerves obviously playing off her fingers as they rapid-fire tapped against the kitchen table. 

“Ever heard of death being, ‘the final sleep’?” Beetlejuice waved his hands in the air, one lighting up with a bloody red while the other turned a soft blue. “Let’s say the red hand’s the Netherworld and blue’s the Realm of Subconsciousness.”

“That name sucks,” Lydia said.

“Take it up with HR. Now,” Beetlejuice slowly overlapped his hands, the colors twisting into a purple hue. “Both these places practically exist in the same space, so some of the same rules still apply. Like using everyday objects to travel between here and there.”

“Is that why you use chalk to draw the door?” Lydia asked. 

“Bingo.” Beetlejuice’s hands then shifted parallel, a much dimmer purple hanging between the two. “For some lucky breathers, they can play around in this space until they wake up again. You call it, ‘lucid dreaming’, but it’s more like you grabbed the string to a kite, instead of letting it fly around all over the place. Except the kite is your soul,” he added. “And the string is your only lifeline back into your body.” 

Lydia’s expression deadpanned. “That’s reassuring, Beej.”

“Hey, what did you think a coma was?” Beetlejuice shook his hands, returning them to their proper, pale color. “Those souls get too far along on their string and forget it takes just as long to get back. Or some demon comes along and cuts it,” he added with a snicker. “Hilarious.” 

Again, Lydia made a face. 

“But I’ll be with you every step of the way, Lyds!” Beetlejuice waved his hand, as if brushing away any imminent danger she’d be put in. “Folks know not to mess with my mark. We’ll be in and out--easy! And these stones’ll just make your line harder to cut. Just in case.” 

It was that, ‘just in case’ that caused Lydia to sweat.  
But here she was, sneaking around one of her parents’ room in search of the right conduit. Her phone’s screen let out a dim glow, just enough for her to see, but not enough to stir the adults in bed. Pictures of various rocks and gems were on display--amethysts, opal auras, moonstones--all supposedly the cream of the crop when it came to lucid dreaming.  
It wasn’t hard finding Delia’s vanity. Cut from eco-friendly wood, a dash of paint across the top from her stepmom's many artistic endeavors, with strung-up crystals hung on every available nook and cranny. There were red ones, blue ones, chunky and smooth ones, but none of them looked like they crystals Lydia needed.  
Then, Delia let out a grumbling snort.  
Lydia gasped, her shin smacking painfully--loudly--against the vanity’s leg. “Ow, f-fuck.”

“Language, y’lady…” Charles’ disproving mumble sent chills down Lydia’s spine. She watched, frozen, hunched over, as her father rose up to a partial-slump while rubbing his eyes. “Lydia? That is you, isn’t it?” The disbelief in his tone made her wonder if, perhaps, she could wipe this all away as just a dream.  
No such luck.  
As if possessed, Delia’s hand shot to the lamp, yanking the chain as she immediately sat up, half-shrieking something about misaligned chakras.  
“It’s alright, dear.” Charles rested a heavy hand on Delia’s shoulder, helping pull the thirty-something-year-old out of her trance. “It’s just Lydia.”

“Oh.” Delia let out a large yawn, one hand doing its best to cover her mouth as her attention turned to a now-sitting Lydia. “Sweetheart, be careful, please. Those are all placed specifically for the most ideal stream of sleep waves.”

Lydia looked back at the vanity, noticing a few crystals had been knocked slightly out of place. “Oh, sorry.” 

“No harm done!” Delia yawned again, her usual chipper smile fully present within seconds. “I quite enjoy arranging the proper pattern. It’s very soothing for the soul.”

“Are you okay, honey?” Now Charles was fully upright, starting to push the heavy comforter off his bed. “Not that I’m never happy to see you, but, it is the middle of the night.”

“No, it’s okay! You don’t have to get up Daddy.” Lydia glanced towards the door, catching the vaguest silhouette of her demonic friend. She gave a subtle jerk of her head towards the vanity before suddenly standing, a hand draped over her forehead as she flopped onto the bed. “It’s just...I’m sorry, it’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal for us,” Delia offered an arm, allowing Lydia to sit up between the two adults (it was just a happy coincidence that now, she and Charles had their backs to the vanity). “Go on; what’s got you awake at this hour?”

Lydia’s eyes briefly flickered to the wall, watching a swatch of the room’s striped wallpaper bein to slink across. “It’s...there’s this dream, you see,” she began. 

“Nightmares?” Charles offered. 

“You could say that,” Lydia began. 

Both Delia and Charles exchanged looks; it was that moment Lydia knew she’d done goofed. “About a certain, green-haired individual?” Charles’ tone was far darker than before. “Perhaps during a less-than-requited legal ceremony?”

The stripes on the wall froze as a pair of greenish eyes blinked open. He looked stunned, stabbed by her father’s words. 

“It,” Lydia made a slight face, trying to show Beetlejuice it was okay and to just-keep-going-you-idiot. “It was a green-card thing, Daddy.”

Charles let out a harumph, quickly set upon by Delia as she rested her head against his shoulder. She gathered his hands into hers, seemingly squeezing the negativity out of him as she smiled comfortingly. “What was the dream about?”

Lydia hadn’t really planned to get this far. She hadn’t even considered telling the two about her dream, but, since it was out in the open already…  
“It’s, um, the funeral.” she spoke quietly, unsure if it was so the attention was pulled more towards her, or because she really couldn’t muster anything stronger. 

Now Charles was back in it. Immediately, he gathered his daughter up into his arms, a loving embrace shared between the two. Lydia watched, wide-eyed, as Beetlejuice’s hand pulled from the wall and started hovering over the crystals and gems. Delia’s head started to turn at the sound of tinkling, but Lydia’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the hug as well. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Charles began.

“Lydia, dear,” Delia said. 

Real tears started to pull from Lydia’s eyes; it was unexpected, to say the least. “It--I’m okay,” she mumbled weakly. “Just been pretty frequent. Universe has a shitty sense of humor, right?”

The three pulled away, Delia’s hand smoothing out the teen’s hair. “She’s watching out for you,” she began. “Saying, ‘hey, girl, look how much you’ve grown’!”

“It’s true,” Charles nodded, a thumb gently wiping Lydia’s cheek. “Emily would be so happy to see us all together like this. Mixed feelings about the swearing,” he added with a good-natured grin. “But glad you’re not destroying yourself over her passing.”

Finally, Beetlejuice’s fingers plucked around one necklace in particular, giving Lydia a thumbs-up before starting quickly back towards the door. “Thanks.” Lydia smiled--genuinely smiled--as she gave the pair one more hug. “I feel better already.”

“You know, if you’re having trouble with nightmares,” Delia twisted around, causing Beetlejuice to slap onto the door as the wooden exterior as she reached for her vanity. “I’ve got just the gemstone for that!”

“Oh, no, that’s really--”

“Nonsense!” Delia’s hand scrambled around the top of the desk, searching for something Lydia was certain wasn’t there anymore. “Let me see if I can find my amethyst--where did it get to, now…?” She paused, doing a double-take towards the door. “Huh. Is that just the lighting, or is the wood striped in a weird way?”

The door began to visibly sweat. 

“Oh, Delia,” Charles gestured towards the woman’s engagement ring, still on her finger, even in sleep. “Didn’t you say something about that stone I bought you being good for sleep?”

Delia clapped her hands excitedly, ignoring the door completely as the stripes slipped outside the room. “Oh, Charles, you remembered! You are absolutely right; though I’d prefer my uncut gems to this, it’ll still be just as effective.” She quickly slipped the ring off, holding it under the lamp so Lydia could see it clearly. It was a simple, rose-gold band, interwoven an ovular-cut stone colored a foggy, light pink. “It’s called a Pink Calcite,” Delia explained. “Here, lay down right here, in between us.” 

There wasn’t really any need for Lydia to be the distraction anymore. She did adore Delia, but not enough to dive head-first into her crazy world. Still, it would look more suspicious if she simply left, so Lydia obliged. She stretched herself out between Charles and Delia, hands folded neatly across her stomach as her legs crisscrossed underneath her nightgown. 

“Now, take a few, deep breaths,” Delia said, placing her ring square in the middle of Lydia’s head. “Focus on your intent for this night; visualize your Third Eye glowing and pulsating with your inner light.”

Lydia fought not to snicker between breaths. She waited for Delia to cue her to sit up, taking the time just to let herself be in the moment. Deep breath in, exhale out; there could be some sort of method to this madness of hers. The ring itself felt weird on her forehead, perhaps in due part to it being on someone’s sweaty-sleep hand. But it brought an odd comfort with it, like someone had just draped a big, fuzzy blanket over her body. Lydia really could’ve fallen asleep there and then.

“And...done!” Lydia was quickly sat back up, somewhat disoriented as she was face-to-face with a grinning Delia. “Wasn’t that lovely, dear?”

Lydia blinked, nodding slowly. 

“Great! You’ll find your sleep full of,” Delia paused, glancing towards her husband, who had already begun to slip back underneath the covers. “What is it she always says?”

“Rainbows and unicorns, dear,” Charles mumbled.

“Right. That.” Another yawn slipped out as Delia planted a kiss on Lydia’s forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

“Yeah. Night, Delia.” Lydia rolled off her dad’s side of the bed, bending over quick to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Night, Daddy.”

Charles gave her a tired smile as, almost instantly, he fell back asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Beetlejuice meets an old love affair and we get this dream train a-rollin. 
> 
> PS: The website did me dirty and my fingers are numb trying to fix the stupid indentation/italicizing, so THIS IS WHAT YOU GET. THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.

Lydia barely got the bedroom door closed before being set upon by Beetlejuice. He jabbed at her shoulder, snickering between sharpened teeth as he hung in the air. “Aww, Wydia! I wuv you, too!” His lips puckered loudly, still cackling as Lydia pushed his face away. “Holy crap, what _was_ that back there? I mean, there’s being dedicated to the part, and then there’s Daniel Day-Lewising it.”

Lydia shot him a scowl, continuing back down to the kitchen with Beetlejuice trailing behind her. 

“You know, Daniel Day-Lewis? ‘There Will be Blood’?” The demon scoffed, hands crossed over his dirty pantsuit. “Jesus; what are they teaching kids these days?”

“Perfectly pointless things I won’t use in the future.” Lydia replied coolly. “And there’s nothing wrong with reminding your parents that you love them.”

“Oh my God, you _have_ gone native on me.” Beetlejuice sighed dramatically, delicately floating down to Lydia’s outstretched arms. “It’s gonna take sooo many misdemeanors to right your karma. I’m thinking a joyride in Daddy’s car, maybe get a good police-chase going?”

“Focus, Beetlejuice,” Lydia pulled her arms out from underneath him, watching as he toppled comically to the ground. “We gotta do this before someone wakes up for real.” She paused, noticing the hint of yellowish-purple that started creeping across his hair. “Besides, it’s not really a ‘misdemeanor’ to drive with a permit.” 

“You have a _permit?!_ ” Beetlejuice peeled himself off the ground, a delighted squeal slipping out as Lydia’s hand covered his mouth. “Oh my God, I _so_ call dibs on being your designated driver. I’m gonna teach you how to donut like a pro, kid!” 

Lydia giggled, pushing against his face as she led them back to the kitchen. God, he was so easily amused. It was reassuring to see his hair go neon-green again, too; emotions were easy if the recipient was a walking mood ring. Beetlejuice kept talking from between her fingers, mentioning something about ramping off a parking garage and how old ladies were worth twice the amount of points.  
And then a sickening crack dropped him to the floor like a bag of bricks.  
Lydia didn’t even get out a gasp as a pair of hands clapped over her mouth, dragging her to the far end of the living room. Her legs thrashed out, sending one of the legrests flying across before being caught by seemingly nothing. The fist came next, landing a direct hit on her assailant's face. 

“O-Ow!” 

Glass crunched against her fist as the pained yelp of Adam greeted her. Lydia froze, body going limp as she glanced up to see ghost Dad himself. His arms immediately flew up to his nose, glasses askew (and broken) on his face while Lydia dropped onto the couch. 

“Oh, Adam!” Barbara’s panic came next from the kitchen. She appeared in a streak of azure-light, body forming quickly afterward as she tended to her husband. “Wow, she really got you good, didn’t she? Here, let me see.” 

“Am I bleeding?” Adam asked, hesitantly lifting his hands away from his face. “Do ghosts bleed? Cause I’m pretty sure my glasses are totaled.” 

Oh, we can fix those.” Barbara reassured, slipping Adam’s glasses into her dress pocket while kissing him gently on the nose. “Your nose looks okay, too.” 

Lydia watched them for a beat, turning back to the kitchen to see Beetlejuice out like a light, laying next to a broom with its head slightly splintered. “Did you kill him?” she asked hoarsely. 

As if remembering the third party, both Adam and Barbara joined Lydia on either side of the couch, protectively close. “I don’t think so,” Barbara started quietly. “But I sure as heck gave it all I had.” 

“How’d you even _hit_ him?” Lydia asked. 

Barbara just pointed to Adam, who had seemingly produced a small, leather-bound book out of nowhere. “I’d say I’ve been reading the handbook front-to-back,” he began. “But new pages seem to be added every day. It recently had a chapter on carving ‘runes’ in everyday objects, just in case other otherworldly spirits tried attacking us.” His gaze flickered back to Beetlejuice, a scowl crossing his face. “Glad to see those woodworking classes weren’t a waste after all.” 

“Are you alright, Lydia?” Barbara placed her hands against Lydia’s cheeks, looking her over for any scrapes or bruises. “I didn’t want to believe he was back, but I’m so glad we came down when we did.” 

“Did he hurt you?” Adam took Lydia's face next, tilting her chin up and down. “Harass you? Say things only you and your Dad shared between each other in private confidence just to get a rise out of you?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Lydia pushed away from the smothering ghosts and made a move towards the kitchen. Her legs caught against the same leg rest from before, but instead of wiping out against the wood paneling, she found herself hovering inches from the floor. 

"Nice catch, hon.” Adam said. 

“Aw, thanks!” Barbara beamed, her hands extended in a spectral haze as they flickered around Lydia’s waist. “You know, it was tricky to get them to go where I wanted, but after that whole raccoon debacle,” 

Lydia squirmed, trying to pry Barbra’s fingers off. “Barbara put me down! You probably gave BJ a concussion--my health teacher says you’re not supposed to sleep if you have those!” She turned back to the Maitlands, heart sinking at the shared expressions on their faces. “What?” she asked as nonchalantly as possible. “It probably applies to otherworldly demons, too.” 

“Lydia, sweetie,” Adam's hands settled on his hip as Barbara reeled the teen back towards them. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Beetlejuice’s appearance, would you?” 

Lydia crossed her arms as she was set back on the ground. “Adam Maitland, I’m surprised! Do I look like the sort of person who,” her voice caught as she got the double-disproving look from both Maitlands. “Okay, but I wouldn’t go directly behind my authority figures’,”  
The look only intensified.  
“Fine!” Lydia threw her hands up, flopping back against the couch in defeat. “But I have a really good reason for doing it." 

“Lydia, I know you miss him,” Barbara began. 

“But he’s literally the worst person we’ve ever met.” Adam finished. 

“Sure, but, how many people did you _actually_ know when you were living?” The Maitlands didn’t have a good answer for this, and Lydia knew it. Still, it was obvious to the teen that they wouldn’t back down. It’s why she loved them so much. It was also what made them so _infuriating_. “Look, as much as you guys don’t like it, I need him,” Lydia said. “And not just in a, ‘he’s my stupid uncle-brother and I miss him a ton’ sort of way; I need answers to something and he can help me get them.” 

“What could he possibly,” Adam started. 

“There’s just nothing he could promise,” Barbara picked up. 

“I think he met my Mom when she died.” 

Barbara’s mouth opened, then closed, one finger raised as she tried to make a point she didn’t have. Adam was quiet, eyes squinting in the dark (but that might’ve been due to a lack of glasses on his face). They looked between each other, then at Lydia, their hands falling into hers with a gentle, cold squeeze.  
_Lydia_ wasn’t even prepared for what she said. It was something she considered, certainly, but the idea that she and Beetlejuice had met earlier in life was still on the forefront of her mind. But, if he was there, that day, in the graveyard... 

“Beetlejuice can take me through the Realm of Subconsciousness safely,” she began. “I can look at my dream without being restricted." 

“Honey,” Adam’s brow was knitted with worry. “Dreams aren’t the same as memories.” 

“But they influence each other, right?” Lydia was actually asking that, but she kept her tone matter-of-factly not to give it away. “They’re just memories with a bit of flair.” 

“I mean,” Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “The handbook _did_ mention that ghosts might find resolution through this, ‘Realm of Subconsciousness’. It very well could be connected?" 

“You gotta admit, though,” Barbara said. “That’s a pretty awful name for a realm.” 

"Take it up with HR.” Lydia grinned, getting a small smile out of the ghostly couple. “Please, I need to figure this out. I feel like it’s a big piece missing to help me move on.” 

The Maitlands sighed, heads gently resting against the side of Lydia’s. “I’m guessing you don’t want us telling Charles or Delia?” Barbara asked. 

"Not until I get the info I need.” Lydia said. 

"Alright, but Barbara and I insist we be part of this.” Adam sat up from the couch and grimaced, staring at Beetlejuice’s twitching body from the kitchen. “I don’t have to give him CPR, do I?” 

“I wouldn’t object.” Beetlejuice’s voice was raspy, a hand rising from the ground as a finger pointed upward. 

Another loud groan came from both Maitlands. “And it begins again.” Barbara sighed, standing up with Lydia in tow. 

_\---_

Once ice pack later and the four were back in Lydia’s room. The Maitlands had taken to either side of Lydia’s bed, the teen back under her covers as Beetlejuice paced behind the footboard, one hand holding the pack in place as the other waved around in the air. 

“Again,” Barbara huffed, blowing a strand of golden, semi-translucent hair out of her face (the broom was propped just beside her). “I’m not sorry I hit you, Beetlejuice.” 

“I’m just surprised yah had it in yah.” Beetlejuice grinned, a third hand sticking out of his side as his fingers wiggled in her direction. “It’s hot, yah know? Next time, you should use something with more surface area, though." 

“Not in front of Lydia!” Adam’s face turned crimson, hands covering Lydia’s ears as he scowled. “Really, she’s just a child.” 

“Oh, don’t think Daddy’s ignoring you~” A worm-like tongue snaked out of Beetlejuice’s mouth, only causing Adam’s face to flush harder. “God, Adam, how can you be twice as sexy without those honkin frames?” 

“You guys, come on." Lydia pushed Adam away, arms crossing over her chest. “Daylight’s not gonna wait around while you three wind the sexual tension tighter.” She held up a hand as each adult tried to sputter a response. “Beej, you got the rock, right?” 

“Rock?” Adam glanced warily between Lydia and the demon. “Lydia, that’s sort of an extreme way to go unconscious. We could just make you some chamomile tea.” 

“As much as I love a good stoning,” Beetlejuice flung the ice pack off his head, unflinching as it tumbled out the window and onto the head of a very perturbed cat outside. “It’s only legally used for medicinal purposes in this world. Not that it would stop me, but man, the toke’s not worth the smoke.” 

Everyone gave the demon a look. 

“Mm, okay, gonna bypass over how _obviously_ hilarious it is we’re talking about three different things.” Lydia gestured to Beetlejuice, who produced the crystal necklace with a snap of his fingers. Under the light of the moon, the jagged gem sparkled with a deep purple tone. Lydia carefully slipped it over her neck, stone resting in the palm of her hand. 

“Wait, isn’t that,” Adam began. 

“Lydia! You shouldn’t steal from Delia like that.” Barbara scolded. 

“We’re only borrowing it,” Lydia insisted. “And it’ll help with the whole, ‘lucid dreaming’ thing.” 

“Yeah, cause I’d rather not have to drag her around everywhere,” Beetlejuice said. “The Realm of Subconscious can be a real pain in the ass if you’re not in control of your soul.” 

“It’s for safety purposes!” Lydia added. “You two are all about safety, right?" 

The Maitlands obviously didn’t like it, but in the name of safety, they didn’t push it further. “Okay, so, what can we do to help?” Barbara asked. 

“You mean aside from standing there looking like a fine piece of ass?” Beetlejuice winced as an ethereal hand slapped him upside the head. 

“Just make sure Daddy or Delia doesn’t try and wake me up.” Lydia said. “Or find out that Beej’s here.” 

“Easy enough,” Adam said. “But what if you two get in trouble?” 

“Isn’t there any way we can, I dunno, jump in if you need help?” Barbara asked. 

“Oh, puh-lease!” Beetlejuice was suddenly beside Barbara, elbow propped on her head as he examined his black nails matter-of-factly. “No demon in their right mind would try and mess with me. Lydia is as safe as a fly in a spider’s web.” 

Barbara shoved him to the ground, both hands taking Lydia’s as her eyes were wide with worry. “You still have time to change your mind, Lydia. I’m sure the Handbook for the Recently Deceased has something we can use.” 

There was something squirming in the back of Lydia’s mind. Beetlejuice had gone down so easily when Barbara had attacked him. Seeing him on the ground like that wasn’t a sight that filled her with the utmost confidence. And he’d swept it by so nonchalantly, fully intent on distracting everyone with lewd quips towards Adam. But the hair didn’t lie; that confidence of his was waffling as much as the green was to yellow.  
He was just rusty. Still getting a handle on his powers after he died.  
After she killed him.  
Lydia shook her head, hands outward to call attention. “Let’s do this, people.” 

“Finally!” Beetlejuice rubbed his hands together, a childish excitement filling his voice. “I’ll meet you at the front door, Lyds. Maitlands,” He pulled his head off his neck, tipping it like a hat before vanishing in a puff of smoke. 

Adam’s face scrunched, hand waving away the plumes. “Eugh--why did he make it smell like a skunk in here?” 

Barbara let out a snort, hand quickly covering her mouth. 

“Oh, you’re not allergic, are you, honey?” Adam asked. “I mean, I don’t think that really matters, with us being ghosts, but,” 

“No!” Barbara waved a hand, snickering. “It’s--I’m fine, Adam. It’s okay.” She reached for her broom, setting it beside Lydia with a nervous smile. “I don’t really know if this will go with you, but it’s better than nothing.” 

“I’ll make sure to hit BJ if he wanders off,” Lydia said, trying to hold back a yawn. 

The Maitlands pulled on either side of Lydia’s covers, helping the teen settle in. She yawned again, rolling to her back as her eyes drifted between the two sleepily. “Hey. Got a request for the jukebox.” 

“What do you wanna hear?” Adam asked, smile as soft as his voice. 

God, when did her pillows get so soft? “Do your take on, ‘The Banana Boat Song’. You got great harmony.” 

Barbara giggled, hand resting on Lydia’s forehead. “Really?" 

“Really.” 

Adam shrugged. “If that’s what the customer wants.” He began to hum gently, a slow, rhythmic tempo he kept with a tap of his finger. Barbara soon joined in, her voice flute-like in comparison to her husband’s bassier tone. They were perfect with each other, a duet made in heaven, and Lydia found her body growing heavier with each passing second.  
“We’ll be right here when you come back.” Adam’s voice was distant, fuzzy. 

"We love you, Lydia.” Barbara’s words intermingled with the lyrics of the song, it all churning to a low buzz as, sure enough, Lydia went out for the count. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we make it to The Realm of Subconsciousness and Lydia should REALLY consider investing in demonic mace...

To put it simply, the Realm of Subconsciousness was as lame as its name.  
Lydia found herself drifting down into an empty, light-lavender room, the walls and floor looking like a cotton candy machine had thrown up in it. It was soft to the touch, her bare feet practically springing as she skipped to a stop. “Huh.” She lifted her hand, surprised to find her fingers wrapped around the rune-carved broom Barbara had given her. “Neat.” She gave a few swings, satisfied to watch as the bristles on the bottom kicked up a swirl of purplish fog.

“Oh my God, _yes_.” Beetlejuice appeared beside her, arm resting on her head as he looked over her broom. “Finally, this place can get the cleaning it deserves. Wait,” he took a quick look around, shaking his head. "Nevermind. Someone beat us to it, Lyds."

“Hey, this thing cleaned your clock pretty good in the living world.” Lydia jabbed the handle in his stomach, ducking underneath the demon as he dramatically staggered forward. 

“Yeah, yeah, what can I say? Barbara always had a knack for sweeping me off my feet.” Even with the obviously joking-manner, Beetlejuice’s poster seemed somewhat defeated. That flash of yellowish purple, then, gone. 

Pushing the thought out of her head, Lydia’s hand moved to the crystal around her neck. It pulsed with a gentle light, growing somewhat stronger as her fingers came in contact. “Okay, so, what did you end up getting for me, anyway?”

Beetlejuice straightened himself quickly, sliding next to Lydia as he pointed a finger at the stone. “That there is uncut amethyst, the hottest shit on the market for lucid dreamers. People literally die to get their hands on that.”

Lydia’s laugh quickly petered off as Beetlejuice’s face turned uncharacteristically somber. “Oh. You’re serious.”

He pulled away, a hand over his mouth as he let out a mock gasp. “Excuse you, but I’m _always_ serious!”

Lydia sighed in relief. He was getting back to normal.

Or, not, as Beetlejuice’s expression immediately dropped, a whole half of his head dying black like creeping cancer. “I’ve watched a lot of breathers kick the bucket cause of this stuff. It’s seriously powerful, ‘specially here.”

“Seriously?” Lydia looked the necklace over, a bit of nerves causing her stomach to churn.

“Yes, seriously—is there a broken record going off in here?” Beetlejuice made a gesture to an empty space, holding for a painful ten seconds before waving away. “Uh, so, yeah. But we’ll be fast; no one’ll even notice you’re here.”

Lydia eyed him over, her nerves refusing to settle. He was hiding something—that much was obvious—but there was no use dwelling now. They were here, and on a mission, no less. “Who is, ‘no one’, by the way? More demons like you? Denizens of the Netherworld? Adam mentioned something ghosts could come here to try and find peace.”

Beetlejuice scoffed. “I hope not. Nothing worse than a bunch of whiners who didn’t wanna stick it out a few hundred years or so." He pointed again to Lydia’s necklace. “You probably have as much power as I do in your world, so we can cut through all the crap. This,” he waved a hand to the purple scenery. “Is the equivalent of the dream world’s fast pass. We get to ride _all_ the rides today, Lyds.”

Lydia’s fingers drummed on her chin, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “As much power as you? What a fascinating proposition; this needs immediate field testing.” With a flick of her wrist, plumes of lavender started to swirl around her, quickly enclosing her in a thick curtain before dispersing in a burst. Woven from blood-red fabric, Lydia found herself in a gothic-style dress lined in black stitchwork similar to that of a spider’s web. A long-legged arachnid made its way up her arm, spinning laced gloves before clambering up her neck and settling onto her head like an oversized hair accessory. 

Beetlejuice slowly clapped, scoffing loudly as he rolled his eyes. “I say you have demon-like powers, and the first thing you do is play dress-up.”

“Gotta look the part, right?” Lydia did a quick turn, absolutely delighted as the hem billowed around her ankles. She gasped, eyeing the broom as a literal light bulb went off beside her head. “Oh; bet you I can ride this thing like a witch!” The broom was ceremoniously tossed forward, Lydia taking a running leap as she landed gracefully along the side. It remained hovering in place, tendrils of purple clouds pushing up against it every so often to keep it as such. 

“A natural Sabrina,” Beetlejuice tugged at his dress collar, glancing around the space with a grimace on his face. “Come on, come on! Let’s get this dream-train rollin already.”

Lydia maneuvered the broom next to Beetlejuice, gloved finger pinching his cheek with a snicker. “What’s the rush? I’m having a blast; you got ants in your pants or something, Beej?”

“No, I just--!” He let out a yelp, shaking his legs as a shower of ants sprayed everywhere. They poofed into purple puffs as soon as they hit the ground; the demon let out an irritated snarl.

“Aww, what’s the matter?” Lydia laughed, a good foot over Beetlejuice (not a hard feat to accomplish at all) as she ruffled his hair. “Junior can’t eat what he dishes out?”

Beetlejuice opened his mouth, only to find it suddenly full of plateware. Sharp canines bit down hard, sending shards of porcelain tumbling to the ground before also poofing into smoke. “Yeah, yeah, you’re super witty with your wordplay,” he managed to spit out. “Now, cut it out.”

“What’s the magic wo~ord?” Lydia crooned, curling a strand of his hair around her finger. 

“How about, ‘fuck off before you lose that finger’?” 

Lydia’s broom pulled back with her; there wasn’t an ounce of playfulness in Beetlejuice’s voice anymore. His hair was flashing wildly, a twisting mixture of red and white. She’d never seen him like that; how did she not notice it?

Beetlejuice must’ve caught her staring because he quickly started slicking back his hair. “I mean--you’re the one who wanted to find your Mom, and,” He trailed off, not looking specifically anywhere, but for sure avoiding Lydia’s gaze. “Look, you’re just drawing attention, and not in the way you’ll like.”

“What's that supposed to,” Lydia got her answer quicker than she wanted. Smoke began to pool all around the two, slowly twisting into a small-scale tornado. Beetlejuice’s hand went to Lydia’s, protectively pulling her into his chest as the force threatened to suck her in. With each passing second, the once lavender-cloud world began to turn sharp, color melting from the clouds as jagged pieces of clockwork materialized from within. A number of cartoonish, yellow stars painted the now-black sky, while the walls turned a faded beige, cutting out the silhouette of a window.  
There, sitting at a nonconscious cafe table, was a young man who couldn’t be any older than Lydia herself. He was dressed like a Victorian gentleman, yellow and dark brown his preferred pallet of choice. His own gloved hand tilted a flattened top hat, the other delicately sipping on tea, of which the steam was suspiciously only purple coloring left in the room. He greeted the two with a pointed-fanged smile, eyes as black and empty as the Netherworld itself. 

“Fucking--” Beetlejuice waved an exasperated hand towards the newcomer. “ _That_ , kid. _That_ is _exactly_ what I meant by ‘attention you won’t like.”

“I think we can let the lady decide on that.” The thick, British accent sent chills down Lydia’s spine. She slipped off her broom, watching the obvious demon set the teacup gently back onto its plate. He stood and moved with one, sweeping motion towards the pair. 

Beetlejuice stepped in front of her, his hair like embers on a coal-lite fireplace. “You don’t wanna mess with me, bud.” 

“With you? Certainly not.” The dream demon moved with astounding speed, pulling on Beetlejuice’s sleeves one second and holding his foot out the next, causing Beetlejuice to briefly lose balance. Lydia wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not she’d been behind him, but managed to hold him up, her broom clattering to the ground in the process. It was swept away by a flurry of stars, propped up against the cut-out window. Well, there went the Maitland’s contribution.  
“Look at you! Dirty attire, mud-caked shoes--did you actually sew the stripes onto this suit? Good God, I didn’t think demons could get keratoconus, but here you are." The dream demon took a step back, slowly shaking his head. "You should really write to the head of Health and Inhuman Services; I’m sure they’d love to feature you in their discoveries.”

Literal steam was pouring out of Beetlejuice’s ears. “W-well, I can tell _you_ who to write to, Crumpet Jane, and it ain’t no head you’ve ever been blessed to see before!”

The dream demon’s brow rose. He held out a hand, cane appearing in the palm of his hand through a swirl of stars and smoke. Without any effort, the bottom of the cane pushed Beetlejuice aside, pinning him against the wall and leaving Lydia completely exposed. “It’s so nice to see a demoness helping others down on their luck. You have an iron will, my lady,” the dream demon stepped closer to her, a coy smile cut across his face. “To have such a laughingstock under your thrall.”

Lydia blinked, gears slowly turning in her head. Did this guy think she was a…?

“Many refer to me as a baku,” he took Lydia’s hand, easily holding a squirming Beetlejuice in place as he kissed it delicately. “But you may call me Len. And I welcome you to the Realm of Subconsciousness, my lady.”

Holy shit, this was really happening again.

Lydia made a sideways glance to Beetlejuice, now angrily chewing away at the end of the cane. Part of her wondered, ‘what the hell am I supposed to do now?’, but the other half knew exactly what to say. She couldn’t do this alone; Beetlejuice needed to be back on his A-game. So, channeling every bit of her teen angst, Lydia stared Len dead in the eye, not so much as flinching as she asked, “So?”

Len’s expression twitched. He quickly straightened, the shock evident in his voice. “‘So’? Is that all you have to say to me?”

“I could throw on the ‘what’ for free,” Lydia said. “But, _gosh_ , the asshole tax pushed you just right over the line.”

That got a cackle out of Beetlejuice. His elbows settled along the cane, one hand waving around at the scenery. “So when’s the puppet show start, Mr. Bean? Or did we walk in at an awkward time?” His hand then wrapped around the cane, jerking quickly across in lewd fashion as Lydia howled with laughter. Thank God; her BFFFF forever was back and in full swing. 

Len’s face began turning a brilliant shade of red. “Excuse me?! How dare you, of _all_ demons, speak to me like that!”

“Oh my God, I’m _soooo_ sorry.” Beetlejuice crooned loudly, hands against his cheeks as he let out an obnoxious whine. “I didn’t mean to get your knickers in a twist~!”  
Len let out a pained shriek as Lydia snapped her wrist, his hands immediately covering his crotch. “Too late.” He fell to the ground, sorting out that mess as the cane went clattering to the ground. Lydia rushed towards Beetlejuice, helping him up onto his feet. “You okay?” she asked under her breath. 

“Oh, I’m _just_ getting started.” Beetlejuice grinned

A large, jagged crack suddenly split across the floor, severing the two on either side as Len slowly rolled to his feet. “Do you two...have any idea...who I am?” He hissed between clenched teeth. 

“Yeah,” Lydia answered cooly. “You said your name was Len. Three of the most annoying letters of the alphabet compacted together for the sake of one, major dipweed.”

“I could make your life a living _nightmare_ if I wanted!” Len stomped forward, hanging over the two like a shadow on the wall. “I’m part of the elite! A high-ranking demon! I--I’m a well-respected member of Hell, God damn it!”

“Well _someone’s_ just _begging_ for attention.” Beetlejuice leaned right across Lydia and grabbed Len’s face, planting a wet one right on the dream demon’s lips. The pair were laughing hysterically now as the dream demon stumbled back, spitting and sputtering. “Aww, I take it back! The RoS is the best; we should bring the kids here next time.”

“‘RoS?” Lydia giggled.

“‘Realm of Subconsciousness,” Beetlejuice explained. “I mean, who’d be pretentious enough to say the whole damn name?”

At this point, the scenery was melting around them like hot butter. Len’s body went rigid, still wiping his mouth along his sleeve as he spoke. “You two are-are ingrates! The lowest common denominator of demons! You’re--imps! Heathens! Mongrels!”

Lydia did a deep curtsy while Beetlejuice bowed behind her. “Aw, shucks. You know how to flatter a girl, don’t yah?” As she straightened, her attention went to the remains of the room’s window. “Hey, Lenny-boy, what’s this?”

“Don’t even _think_ about it.” Len hissed. “Only high-class demons like myself can enter a breather’s dream.”

“Ooh, a _breather’s_ dream? Who’s?” Lydia asked innocently.

A cruel smile crept across Len’s face. He pointed directly at Beetlejuice, the air of superiority back in his voice. “Why, his murderess'. Lydia Deetz. She'll be begging at my feet in no time."

“Is that so?” Lydia gave a knowing look to Beetlejuice, who did all he could to hold back a snicker. God, boys were so easy. She started to swish her dress, dancing across the floor and against Len’s chest. “And why, pray tell, would she do that?” 

He actually took the bait. Len’s expression immediately shifted from haughty angry to haughty lust. “They always come for my contracts. Anything to stop the nightmares from coming.”

“Created by yourself, I assume?” Lydia asked, her finger tracing around Len’s vest button. “That’s quite the operation you got going here.” Creep.

“A class-act only a baku could create. No room for error, or,” Len gestured to Beetlejuice in disgust. “Human deception.”

Beetlejuice’s hair would’ve belonged perfectly in a fireplace. A low, guttural sound came deep from his throat, but it stopped as Lydia subtly waved him off. “My, I’ve misjudged you, Len.” She walked her fingers up the side of his neck (his clean, beard-free, baby-smoothe neck), a coy smile shaping along her lips. “It takes a special sort of fellow to come up with something like that.”

Len’s smile was far more devious than Lydia liked. His hand snaked around Lydia’s waist, pulling her too close for comfort. “Tell me; what kind of name could compare to a beauty such as yourself?”

Lydia forced a grin. “They call me the Red Spider. Clever, I know,” she added, gesturing to her dress. 

“I wonder if, perhaps, they call you that for another reason?” 

Len’s lips were disgustingly close at this point. Gently, delicately, Lydia ran her hand up the side of his face, eyelashes fluttering delicately. Her fingers rested along the brim of his hat, and for a moment, it stayed there. Only for her to yank it hard over his head. With a swift shove to his chest, Len staggered back, crashing against the cafe table as the contents of the tea went flying everywhere. Lydia cackled, watching for a moment as he struggled to pull the hat back over. “I got that name for how red I make dipshits’ faces turn! BJ, let’s go!”

Beetlejuice wasted no time, grabbing her broom with both hands before diving headfirst through the window. "See yah later, Lennard~!"

Lydia followed behind, glancing behind her shoulder one more time to watch Len finally tear through the top of his hat. “And, you know what? You can just call me Lydia. Lydia Deetz, if you’re feeling _pretentious_.” With a look of shock on Len’s face to play her out, Lydia jumped through the broken window, following after her one and only demonic friend as she plummeted through oblivion.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE MENTIONED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which y'all get TWO chapters cause I'm a glutton for punishment. Also, Lydia experiences her first, big sibling fight...

It didn’t take long to catch up to Beetlejuice. Maybe she’d somehow hit terminal velocity faster than him, or maybe he was trying to take up as much space as possible for a slower descent (she was but a beanpole to his previously comparable pizza-box shape). Regardless, Lydia found herself falling by his side, him having turned right-side up while she continued falling upside-down. “Sup.”

Beetlejuice gave her a short wave, face as straight as can be. “Sup.” 

A beat. A snicker, then a giggle passed between the two. Finally, their faces broke completely as they devolved into howling laughter. 

“Oh my God, who _was_ that guy?!” Lydia asked through tears. “And what horse did he fall off of?”

“Trust me, you do not want to see that disfigured beast.” Beetlejuice was holding his sides, hair bright green. “Oh-oh--and _you_! Playing him like that; you had me going for a second.”

Lydia stuck her tongue out, giggling like mad. “What, you think all girls just go limp from a British accent? I’m more of the gravel-in-a-blender sort of girl myself.”

Beetlejuice sniffled loudly, wiping the corner of his eye with his finger. “I’m just so proud of the little, manipulative shit you’ve become.”

Lydia did her best to curtsy, though doing so upside down was certainly an interesting task. “What can I say? He made it pretty easy.” Here it was, just like back in the kitchen. They were having fun again. No weird, awkward feelings of remorse or panic or guilt. Just poking fun at a demonic git while romping about in a realm no human really traversed through before. Just like before.

“Hey, you know whose house to egg now, too, once we get out of here.” Beetlejuice pointed out.

“Seriously. That Len guy’s got nerve, replaying the same dream over and over.” Lydia’s knuckles turned white as she tightened her fist. “Wish I did more than just pull his hat down back there. Literally all the power at my fingertips, and I froze up.”

“Nah, you did great!” Beetlejuice’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “I’d make you my protege on the spot. Oh, wait,” he added with a laugh. “We’re well past that point.”

“Yeah.” Lydia chuckled, enjoying the sensation of falling without the repercussion. “Still, would’ve felt great to take Len head-on.”

Beetlejuice flipped himself sideways, legs folded as he propped his chin under his hand. “You really got a murder boner for the little twerp!” 

“You can’t _tell_ me you didn’t wanna mess with him more.” Lydia tried twisting herself into a similar position, marveling how easy Beetlejuice made it seem. “My dream powers, your usual brand of wacky hijinks? We would’ve won, hands-down.”

Beetlejuice laughed loudly. “No, we wouldn’t have~!”

“Wait, _what_?”

The pair suddenly burst through a haze of clouds, hurtling faster towards a soggy ground of grass and headstones. Beetlejuice grabbed the broom and pushed it towards Lydia, her just barely managing to take control of it. She sat sideways along it, Beetlejuice hanging by one hand as they began their slower descent. “What’s this, ‘no we wouldn’t have’ nonsense?” She tried to keep herself calm; he was just joking, obviously. Why was her voice shaking?

Beetlejuice tried swinging himself up onto the broom, with mixed results. One leg managed to wrap around it, but the other remained dangling. “This isn’t my area of expertise, Lyds! I’m more of a Netherworld-slash-living-world demon; that’s where my abilities shine.” He made another attempt to pull himself up onto the broom, failing miserably. “He’s a baku. A dream demon? They skulk around this place like an overweight nerd in the hentai section of a comic book store. This whole place is home turf to him.”

“Oh, come on,” Lydia’s laugh was far weaker now. “You’re overexaggerating.”

Beetlejuice shook his head. “Listen, kid; if I’m the kind of demon who likes to nibble every cookie in the jar and put them back, he’s the kind of demon who swallows whole bagfuls. Without chewing.” At Lydia’s blank look, he explained further. “You know, souls and stuff? He _literally_ eats people’s souls to get his power.”

“ _ **What?!**_ ” Lydia’s voice was barely a whisper. She’d been so _close_ to him. Could he have just chomped down on her like that?

“Yeah, but there’s lots of hoops to jump through.” Beetlejuice huffed, hanging by the broom via hands as he caught his breath. “Oh, Jesus--I really gotta get back in shape."

“Beej,” Lydia could feel the color draining from her face. “We could’ve _died_?”

“Weren’t you listening, Lyds?” Beetlejuice asked. “That Len guy's got hoops to jump through! Breathers and demons alike have to sign contracts with him before he can do anything. Like a vampire needing to be invited in, but a billion times more boring.”

“Why would anyone--?” Lydia began.

“Breathers like the idea of a no-nightmare life.” Beetlejuice said. “Which, if you ask me, isn’t worth sitting in the stomach of that fucking loser. Like, I _totally_ enjoyed gilding his lily with you, but it was _super_ good we got out when we did.”

“But you’re Beetlejuice!” Lydia exclaimed, causing the broom to rock slightly. “The Ghost with the Most, Bio-Exorcist Extraordinaire! You’re _seriously_ telling me you couldn’t take that British pastry back there?”

“Again, not a dream demon,” Beetlejuice began kicking his feet, using the previous momentum to start swinging back and forth. “So I don’t exactly have the home-field advantage.”

“I thought you said dreams were the easiest way to scare breathers?” Lydia asked. “Was that just more lies?”

“Oh, look, it’s the ground! What a perfect segway.” With that, Beetlejuice let go, still a good fifty or so feet from the actual ground. Lydia trailed his body for a good minute or so, wincing as it hit the dirt with a sickening crunch. With a heavy sigh, she coaxed her broom all the way down, fingers drumming along the wood as Beetlejuice worked his head out of the hole he’d made. 

“That’s a solid 8.5 from me, bub." She said. "Stuck the landing, but could’ve been more graceful with your descent.” 

Beetlejuice popped out, showering Lydia with worms and debris. “Are we back to being buddy-buddy, then?” he asked. “Cause, like, you’ve been a bummer for 50% of this trip.”

Lydia scowled, arms tightly crossed along her chest. “Maybe I’d be more relaxed if I had the whole picture. Seriously, BJ, why didn’t you tell me your powers were weaker here?”

Beetlejuice continued brushing himself off, though, really, all it did was streak more dirt stains across his suit. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, till Leonardo back there showed up. But, we handled it fine!” He added, jabbing Lydia playfully in the ribs. “Right? Eh? Protege?”

“Yeah, when I thought I was safe.” Lydia shoved her demon friend away, static visibly crackling around her. “Beej, what if something bad happened? What if Len really hurt us?

“What, you worried about getting a few battle scars?” Beetlejuice asked.

“Maybe, if they come back with me to the world of the living.” Lydia snapped. “Daddy would have a cow if--”

Beetlejuice loudly scoffed, waving both hands at Lydia. “Oh, of _course_. Wouldn’t want your precious Paw-Paw throwing a fit.” He hopped onto the back of a broken grave, legs crossing as he turned away from Lydia. “God, it’d be a regular quartet, once you got all four going. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lydia rounded the tombstone, never quite catching Beetlejuice’s face. “Would you just--Beej, stop it!” He kept turning away; eventually, she stretched her arms out and clapped them against this face. “What is going _on_ with you?”

“With _me_?!” Her hands immediately recoiled as Beetlejuice snapped, hair ablaze once more. “Jesus, Lydia, did you go blind while I was gone? It’s a full-on infestation in our house!”

“It’s not our--” Lydia caught herself, taking a shaky breath. “It’s not just _my_ house anymore. I want them there--The Maitlands, Daddy, Delia--I want them all.”

“You were perfectly fine when it was just me.” Beetlejuice mumbled. 

“Yeah, back when I’d given up completely on life itself.” The first few drops of rain started to pour, but Lydia didn’t even notice. An electric tang was tangible on her tongue, mixed with the bubbling rage that had started in her stomach. “I can’t believe you right now! You’d rather me be _literally_ contemplating my existence than at peace with myself?

“Well, you sure were more fun when you were a suicidal sad-sack.”

The first crack of lightning flashed across the sky. The rain fell harder. “That’s a shitty thing to say.” Lydia’s voice was barely above a whisper, but even against the storm, she knew he could hear her. “That’s shitty, and you _know_ it.”

“ _Do_ I?” Beetlejuice hopped down from the grave, splashing mud all over Lydia’s dress as he leered over her. “I mean, I’m just the pervy demon, right? Called in to get shit on so everyone feels better about themselves.”

“That’s not--”

“You were the _first_ person to see me, Lyds!” Rain was streaming down Beetlejuice at this point, once stuck-up hair flat and ranging from a myriad of colors. “I’d completely given up on being seen by anyone, and there you were. Those two days were the best of my life, and you--you’re acting just like them!”

The bubbling in her stomach clawed its way out as a scream. “You mean like a _person_ , Beetlejuice?!”

“Like an _**adult**_.” Beetlejuice literally spat the word out on the ground.

Lydia laughed--a hysterical, hollow sound--as she held her hands out to the sky. “Holy shit, what a _novel_ concept!” A flash of lightning, then another, just barely dancing along her fingertips as her hair swirled in the wind. “Maybe I _did_ grow up a little during your absence, Beetlejuice. A lot can happen in two months!” 

“Clearly, for the worst!” Beetlejuice shouted back. “You’re a mess! A wreck! I don’t even recognize you anymore.” 

“Beetlejuice,” Lydia hissed between her teeth, droplets evaporating as they struck against her body. 

“You can say my name however you want, kid.” Beetlejuice was right in her face now, sneering. “I’m not scared of some pissy little teen who, deep down, still whines and cries at night for _dearest, **deadest**_ Mommy. 

_“Beetlejuice.”_ Lydia snarled, straightening as she watched the realization spark in his eyes. 

“Wait, kid,” Beetlejuice held up his hands, recoiling away from the teen as she pushed him back. “You need me here, okay? Don’t be an idiot--!” 

****

****_**“Beetlejuice.”**_** **


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia walks around a familiar place, in a distant past, and discovers she's not as put-together as she thought.

She’d only guessed it would work. It was what she wished for with all her heart, and damn it, Dream Lydia got everything she wanted. So whether it was actually part of his curse, or Lydia’s dream state was just that powerful, Beetlejuice vanished. There wasn’t any drama, any flair; he was just there one minute and then wasn’t. Lydia stood in the pouring rain, fists clenched by her side and shaking. What an absolute--fine. It was fine. She was here, she still had control. He didn’t even have powers here. She was the one in charge. With that thought pushing her forward, Lydia bent over and picked up her broom, shaking it of mud before tossing it into the air. It drifted lazily for a moment before sitting upright, the top of its handle bent over slightly. 

"Don’t gimme that.” Lydia scoffed. “I _don’t_ feel bad about what I said.”

The broom tilted slightly, like a confused dog would to a person who was clearly lying.

“He--he crossed a line!” Lydia insisted. “He wants me to be just, miserable, all the time, so he can feel better about himself. No way.” She crossed her arms, nodding curtly. “I don’t need that in my life. Now,” her shoes made an awful squelch as she tried pulling them free of the mud. “Flatten out, would yah? I’ve got a burial to get to.” 

The broom almost let out a sigh, turning horizontal so Lydia could sit across. With a gentle push off the ground, Lydia set off in a gentle trot (or whatever the broom equivalent was). The rain kept falling onto her head, pulling an irritated groan from the teen. She waved her hand, a translucent umbrella forming from joined water droplets as another hand lit up with a small, warming flame. She ran it across her body, only hesitating as it came up to her face. Suddenly, a mug appeared underneath it, the rich scent of hot chocolate emanating from its rim. “I don’t feel bad!” Lydia hucked the mug as hard as she could, wincing as it smashed against one of the nearby tombstones. “I’m not the guilty party, here.”  
Then, she heard it; the mumblings of the preacher. Craning her head, she finally spotted the robes just a broom-scoot away. Him, the sea of black, and,  
“Little Lydia.”  
With a click of her tongue, Lydia’s broom set off towards the crowd. She briefly wondered if anyone in the dream could see her, but after passing accidentally through Aunt Agnes, she safely concluded that wasn’t the case. “Okay, and, now we wait.” Lydia hopped off her broom, almost instinctively taking her place between Dream Charles and Little Lydia. It was all here, right as it always was. An overcast sky, as depressing as the people veiled in black. The stoic face of Charles, staring off into a thought. The casket, dangling over a pit in the ground, ready and eager to swallow Emily whole. 

And then Emily herself. 

Lydia forgot how to breathe. It was like looking into a mirror; soft, tumbling hair, petite frame, a look that was somehow both loving and sharp with an unspoken wit. She held a gentle, pink glow around her, watching the events unfold from a nearby cypress. Then, the drunk baby got to work. Skip--Emily watched her coffin begin its jittery descent into the ground.

Skip--she wove herself between people, trying to hug them, kiss them on the cheek, as they all started their cars. Started, and vanished, just as quickly. 

Skip--Emily tried to fit underneath the umbrella with her husband, tears forming in her eyes as she couldn’t wipe her little girl’s away. 

Skip--her hand was pressed against the back window of the family’s car, Charles in mid-turn as the car readied to pull away.

Lydia rubbed her arms with her hands, unable to stop herself from shaking. She was still standing over her mother’s grave, finding herself rooted. Her mother was there--right there--and she was completely frozen in place, back turned.  
“Move.”  
Her legs refused to listen.  
“Come on, damn it, _move_!”  
Lydia managed to shift her weight, collapsing completely onto her knees. Her dress was drenched in mud, magic umbrella long-since abandoned as rain pelted the back of her head. She stared down, down, at the pit some stranger had dug out for her mother’s corpse. The sleek, wooden surface of the coffin mocked her, immovable, while the collective essence of whatever remained of Emily stared at a version of her that wasn’t even real.

“It’s tragic, really.” The familiar, British canter sounded like it was right behind her. Lydia managed to turn her head, the entire acting draining her completely. Her hand caught against the ground, breathing heavy, world threatening to pull the rug out from underneath her. “It’s different when you actually step into the dream. I did try and warn you.”

“Where are you?” Lydia gritted her teeth, managing to push herself back onto her feet. Hand outstretched, her broom immediately flew into place, herself holding it out and ready to whip out at the first face saw. “I’m not _scared_ of you.”

Len appeared seemingly between the raindrops, hand extended towards Lydia for support. “I know that.” 

She knocked it away with the hilt of the broom. It let out a dazzling-blue spark, causing the dream demon to hiss and stagger away. “What’s your game, here?” Lydia asked. “I’m not signing any bullshit contract.” 

Len straightened out his glove, shrugging slightly, as if the curling threads of smoke from the tips of his fingers didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Is that what that son of Shoggoth told you?” His cane appeared in his hand next, a stardust-like smoke hissing from the top molding. It looked like a snouted creature’s head, one Lydia had never seen before. “Please; I offer opportunities, Lydia Deetz.”

The way he said her name made it feel almost tangible, like a pair of shackles around her arms. Lydia’s posture stiffened, eyes narrowed. “I don’t want what you're selling. Go knock on some other sad sack’s door.” 

Len clicked the cane’s butt on the ground. Once, twice; smoke poured out from the top, slowly beginning to take shape. It was vague, at first, then began to mold itself into something vaguely humanoid. “You’re still broken, Lydia. Anyone can see that.”

“ _Shut up_.” Something chipped off of Lydia’s face. Her fingers brushed against it; a crack had formed in her cheek. 

“That jaunt you took through the Netherworld didn’t amount to anything. Whatever sense of, ‘closure’ you think you got was nothing more than smoke in the wind.” Len rolled his wrist in the air, as if to add extra emphasis. “You humans circle between semi-completion and completely in pieces. Round, and round, and round, and then you _die_.” 

Another sharp crack caused Lydia to hiss. She grabbed her arm, feeling her fingers tingle at their tips.

“But in a dream, it’s so much easier to expedite things.” With another tap of Len’s cane, the stars crafted into the outline of Emily. She looked straight into Lydia’s eyes, the reassuring smile on her face pulling a whimper from the teen’s throat. 

“You’ve got incredible determination, Lydia Deetz. Every soul in the Netherworld saw that.” Len gently nudged Emily on the back, pushing her towards Lydia. “Doesn’t someone of that magnitude deserve the resolution she wanted?”

Lydia stepped away, trying to turn her face away from her mother’s embrace. It was like glass shoved through her ribcage, a white-hot intensity that sent her body into a spasm. 

“You never even got to say goodbye.”

The feeling soon passed, melting into something warm, something safe. Lydia blinked furiously; this was a trick. He was goading her and it wasn’t going to work. She already made her peace, she was well-passed this. Then, why was she hugging this _thing_ back?  
The sun was warm against Lydia’s head. She pulled away from Emily to turn, finding herself in a rolling field full of dazzling flowers. No more graveyards, no more rain. Even her dress had changed, now clean, white, lacy; just like her mom’s. She spun on her heel, arms outstretched as Emily stood before her, fully corporal, fully human. Smiling and laughing like nothing had ever happened.

Len’s arm appeared around her shoulder, his hand held out to her. “You don’t even have to say good-bye, Lydia Deetz. This can be everyday, from now until the end. All you have to do,” his fingers closed into a fist, only leaving the pinky out. “Is make a promise to enjoy it.” 

Lydia found herself reaching towards the baku’s hand. This was it, what she had been searching for in the Netherworld. It was a small price to pay, just to see Mama happy and alive again. Her fist began to close as well, pinky extended forward. In a matter of seconds, Len had given her everything she wanted. A weight had been lifted from her chest, one she hadn't even realized had been there until today. And as their pinkies just barely touched, it occured to Lydia that it was less a weight from her chest, but _against_ it. A silly thought, to be sure. 

Honestly, it was more like a weight around her neck--

She gasped, choking on air as if she’d been submerged underwater. Lydia’s fingers closed into a tight fist, slugging Len square across the jaw. The world shattered around them as the baku staggered back, falling head-first into seemingly nothing. Lydia’s head swiveled, catching a brief glimpse of her mother once last time as a wethered gravestone took her place. The rain was back, a shocking wake-up to Lydia’s system. She wiped her face with her muddied dress sleeve, staring down into an empty grave as Len squirmed in the forming puddle. There it was; balled up in his hand was the amethyst necklace, easily removed in her dream-drunk stupor. “Shit.” Her hand flew up, every fiber of her being willing the broom to come her way. It remained face-down on the ground, slowly sinking into the bubbling mire.  
_**“Shit.”**_  
Lydia took off in a sprint, slipping along the grass as the pit behind he erupted in a shower of stars. Len tore through the air like a starved cat, snagging the hem of Lydia’s dress with jagged nails. She let out a shriek, instinctively kicking out as her flat smacked Len in the face. The fabric ripped terribly, though admittedly, the teen found it twelve times easier to run without the weight holding her down. Lydia’s sock slid against the mud, causing her to crash and slide face-first across. She only managed to grab the broom in time to hold it up as Len’s hands came crashing down against it. 

“You _had_ to make this difficult, didn’t you?!” His eyes had gone completely feral, pitch-black as multicolored sparks flew from beneath his fingertips. “You could’ve been a happy songbird in your little, gilded cage, but _now_?” Len wrapped his fists together, slamming hard upon the broom. A flash of pink intermingled with the runes on the broom, bubbling briefly around Lydia with each strike from the baku. “Oh, I’m _done_ waiting. Protocol be damned; who needs to fatten up the most desirable soul in the Netherworld, anyway? I got greedy, I admit, but I won’t be making _that_ mistake again.”

Her arms were gonna give out soon; Lydia could feel it. “Thought you’d be full after gobbling your superior’s dicks, Lenny-dear~!”

He let out a bloodcurdling shriek, sharpened teeth coming down on Lydia’s head, only to be bounced off by the same, ethereal bubble. “ _ **I’m going to rip that pretty little tongue out first, Lydia Deetz**_!”

There; Len’s weight was finally off her legs. Lydia dug her feet into his chest, throwing him off with every ounce of energy she had left. She watched as Len stumbled back, gasping as his back hit the trunk of the cypress. Her body screamed in protest, but Lydia was back on her feet, two halves of the broom in either of her hands. “No,” A small part of her cried out for the loss of the inanimate’s life. She tried shoving the pieces back together, the rune completely splintered as it flickered out completely. “No, come on!” 

“What’s the matter, Lydia Deetz?” Len spat out a mouthful of black blood, straightening as each individual bone in his vertebrate made a sickening pop. “Running out of options? I’ve got one to offer, and I promise you, it’s much easier if you don’t _struggle_ on the way down.” 

“Fuck you.” Oh, she was terrified out of her mind right now. Lydia’s chest threatened to collapse in on itself, heart jumping around her throat as every part of her turned cold. “I’ve never had anything easy, _Lennard_ , and I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop that trend now.”  
Her world went black as Len lunged forward, mouth tearing open into an impossible size. The rain and tombstones had become serrated teeth, grass carpeting the ground now an inexplicably, incandescent tongue. In that moment, that few seconds before the metaphorical gates closed behind here, any sense of self-preservation had drained away. It certainly wasn’t peace; there were so many regrets that oozed to the surface of her mind. Charles and Delia would hopelessly care for a body that was never going to wake up. Adam and Barbara would blame themselves for not doing more, just like they always would. And Beetlejuice--  
That got Lydia to break. Tears spilled from her stoic expression; that idiot would never forgive himself. He’d never be happy again, never trust anyone to climb those idiotically-tall walls of his. He’d never get to experience what it was like to have a real family. 

He suddenly slammed into Lydia’s side, hard, as the jaw snapped shut.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia faces some hard truths and the end is nigh.

A burst of stars scattered across her vision as Lydia hit the ground. Hard. For a moment, she was back in her room, suddenly full of the adults she so desperately loved. Maitlands on either side of her bed, Deetz’s sprawled out on the couch; she could wake up from the nightmare, put this whole, hair-brained scheme behind her. Suck it up and take whatever punishment was coming. Go back to how it was before he showed up.  
Lydia blinked, back in the graveyard once more. She managed to push up onto her knees, vision still trying to refocus.  
Where was he?  
She tried to speak, only managing a raspy croak. Her eyes stung, mud seeping in between, and Lydia did her best to wipe her face clean. Realistically, it only smeared the mud around more.  
Where _was_ he?

“Lydia--!” she was suddenly pulled up off the ground, feet just barely touching as a pair of strong, protective arms held her close. “Lydia, oh my God.”

“Are you alright?” A gentle hand wiped her eyes, tears overflowing from their voice. “Is she alright? Charles, she’s alright, right?”

Delia. That was the voice she was hearing. Lydia blinked, finding her living parents’ squeezed around her, as if afraid she’d float away. Every part of her went limp, her head sinking into Charles’ chest. “Daddy?”

“I’m here,” The couple sank to their knees, Charles cradling his daughter's head while Delia did her best to cover the teen’s back with her night shawl. “We’re all here; you’re safe.”

All? Lydia’s head swiveled, finding Adam standing under the cypress as his hand tried protecting the pages to the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. It was strange to see him so opaque, not floating a good inch or two off the ground. It was, however, good to see his glasses back on his face. “Barbara, honey, you got a handle on him?” 

Barbara held a shovel arm’s length from the Len, currently on his hands and knees. “Oh, I got a ‘handle’ alright.” She waved the top of the shovel with a grin before her expression fell back to a scowl. “You just stay right there, buddy. I got a lot of practice using this.”

Len responded by retching violently onto the ground.

Barbara stumbled back, the head of the shovel still pointed at the dream demon as a black ooze dribbled down his chin. “Uh, Lydia? What did you _do_ to him?”

Nothing, and that’s what _scared_ her so much. Using Delia and Charles as support, Lydia managed to stand on her own, hobbling towards Adam before her hand flew out to catch against the tree trunk.

“I gotcha,” Adam’s hands caught her as the living parents quickly flocked to her side. “Take it easy.

“I didn’t do anything.” Her voice felt rubbed raw, but the sentence flooded her with dread.

“What?” Delia’s face was filled with worry. She rested a hand on Lydia’s shoulder, but the teen jerked away. “Sweetheart, it’s okay,”

“I didn’t _do_ anything.” Lydia stumbled forward, shoe-and-foot sloshing in the mud. She felt electric now, every nerve completely on overdrive. 

“Lydia--?” Barbara held out her hand, but Lydia pushed it away, going straight for the dream demon. The pool of sludge diluted in the rain, running like rivers as she stepped across without hesitation. Her eyes were pinpricks, staring down at Len with deadly intent. 

“Where is he.”

Len’s head twisted upward, pale and beaded with sweat. “Who~?”

Lydia grabbed him by his shirt collar, hauling the baku up to a kneeling slump. “Where. _Is. _ **Beetlejuice**_.” _

Len let out a sputtering laugh, black ichor spraying Lydia’s face. “I’m going to _thoroughly_ enjoy roaming your world, now. A happy little accident, wouldn’t you say? Absolutely revolting taste, though; I’m not surprised he was well past expiration.” 

All she could see was red. Lydia was just going through the motions at this point, body robotically operating under her main desire. She dropped Len to the ground and just started kicking, stomping, pummeling that smug face, hoping that sneer caved in on himself.  
_**“Lydia--!!!”**_  
A pair of hands tore Lydia off him, pinning her arms as Charles held her against his chest. She let out a shriek, nails digging into her father’s arm to try and get free. She was gonna kill him; even if there was literally no way to do so, Len was going to live in agony for every second of the day. He _had_ to, this couldn’t stand. The Universe _couldn’t_ let this stand. That bitch _owed her_ , _this couldn’t be **happening.**_

__“Lydia, honey, baby-girl,” Delia’s voice was soft, soothing; she eased the teen from Charle’s vice-like grip, gathering her under her shawl, hand stroking Lydia’s hair. That was it; Lydia let out a howling wail, burying herself into the closest thing she had to a mother at the moment. She clung to Delia’s back, afraid that if she let go, the ground would simply vanish. Her arms shook, each breath a painful stab through her chest._ _

__“Uh, Deetz family?” Adam’s voice hesitantly cut in, standing behind his wife as she flipped her shovel back towards the baku. Len’s human visage was quickly eroding, melting into a puddle of bubbling, black liquid. “There’s a lot going on here, and Lydia, I’m so sorry, but,”_ _

__“Duck!” Barbara whipped the handle of the shovel at Adam’s legs as the Matilands dropped. Something to the shape of a hand smashed across the cypress, ripping its roots from the ground as it was flung through the air. The dream demon was quickly becoming nothing more than an amalgamation if the dream itself, pulling from the very seams of the contained reality. Tombstones, asphalt from the street, even people themselves, were being sucked into the swirling mass._ _

__“We need to wake up.” Adam pushed himself off the ground, flipping frantically through the handbook. “We need to wake up _right now.”__ _

__“Adam, we can’t let that thing get out!” Barbara jabbed a finger at the tumbling creature, its claws creating large, jagged tears through the sky as it climbed towards the cloud line._ _

__“Barbara, I don’t know how a shovel is going to stand up to that!” Adam cried._ _

__Barbara threw her hands up, face wrought with panic. “W-Well, we have to do _something!_ It’s going to destroy everything if it gets through to the living world!” _ _

__The adults continued shouting at each other; not out of anger, but sheer desperation. Lydia remained under Delia’s shawl, eyes squeezed shut so she didn’t have to watch the world spin out.  
This was all her fault.  
She’d brought Beetlejuice back from the Netherworld. She lied to her parents about the stones, pulled the Maitlands into this tangled, obsessive web of hers. She’d egged on the demon who was about to crash into her reality--everyone was going to die, or worse. This was all her fault, and all to see someone whose death she finally thought she’d come to terms with.  
But she hadn’t. And now Lydia was going to lose everything else.__

__“Lydia?”_ _

____

____

The teen looked up, eyes filled with tears as she found herself staring into her mother’s. Emily’s voice was a gentle lull, radiating with a faint, pinkish glow. Her forehead resting against Lydia’s as she offered a small smile. 

____

“Don’t be a trick.” Lydia sobbed. “Please, I can’t. I can’t take anymore of this.”

____

Emily’s thumb gently wiped the tears from Lydia’s cheek. “I’ve never seen you cry this hard, sweetheart. Not even after I passed.”

____

“I’m sorry.” Lydia whimpered. “I’m so sorry. I still love you, I promise.”

____

“Baby girl,” Emily pulled away slightly, enough to gently lift her daughter’s chin. “I already _know_ that. You don’t have to convince me.” She held her daughter’s face in the palm of her hands--an act that only pulled more tears out from Lydia. “Why was it so important you find out if Lawrence and I met?”

____

Lydia sniffed, her own hands enveloping in her mother’s. It was never just curiosity, never to settle a nagging thought. She knew exactly why she came, from the minute Beetlejuice sat down in her kitchen. It looked so natural, felt so right. He belonged there, and only she believed it.  
“They _have _to care, Mama. And, if you cared about him, they couldn’t argue with that. They just couldn’t.”__

____

__Emily was quiet for a moment. Then, “Don’t you care?”_ _

____

__Lydia blinked, somewhat taken aback by the question. “O-of course I did.”_ _

____

__“Even after everything he said?” Emily asked._ _

____

__“That didn’t matter!” Lydia shook her head, pulling away from her mother as she rose to her feet. “None of that mattered to me. People do and say awful things, but that doesn’t mean you just,” The fire burning in her chest weakened at her mother’s smile. God, she missed that smile. “You don’t just...it’s all or nothing. Everyone took my all, even him. Even if he never admitted it.”_ _

____

__“Lydia.” Emily stood, arms folded against herself as her smile grew. “You don’t have to convince _anyone_. You care; that’s all that matters.” She extended her hand; Lydia held it tight. “You can be sad about me. You can be happy with Lawrence. You can want a family with the Maitlands, with Delia, with your father.”_ _

____

__“But, all those things conflict,” Lydia said softly._ _

____

__Emily’s smile turned mischievous. “And isn’t that great? Shoving all those mismatch pieces together to get the picture you want? I seem to remember a certain child insisting that was how puzzles worked.”_ _

____

__Lydia let out a hiccuping-sob, pulling Emily in for what she knew was the last hug. “You keep talking like he’s okay. _Is_ he okay?”_ _

____

__Emily chuckled, smoothing Lydia’s hair as she did so. “Even if he isn’t, you won't let anything stop you from getting those pieces back. Right?"_ _

____

__

____

__“Right.”_ _

____

_  
___  
  
  
  
  


____ _ _

____“Right?” Delia pulled away from Lydia, confusion obvious on her face. “Honey, ‘right’ about what?”_ _ _ _

____Lydia immediately stood, handing Delia’s shawl back. “Barbara’s absolutely right. There’s no way that demon’s leaving here intact.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes!” Barbara’s arms pumped in the air, shovel nearly smacking Adam in the face. “Oh, sorry, love--but I’m with Lydia on this one.”_ _ _ _

____“But, honey,” Adam just weakly gestured to the growing mass before them._ _ _ _

____“Come on, Adam! The Maitlands 2.0 never say die. And not just because we’re already dead,” Barbara added matter-of-factly. “There’s gotta be something in that book of ours that can help.”_ _ _ _

____Adam pulled back the cover, expression thoughtful as he tumbled through the pages. “I mean, there’s plenty of sigils that prevent realm-crossing, but they apply to single-realm demons. Since Beetlejuice,” he hesitated, glancing towards Lydia. “Since something else has hold off his powers, I don’t know if it’ll still work.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, ‘close enough’ is just gonna have to be good enough.” Barbara propped her shovel onto her shoulder, giving Lydia a thumbs up. “Adam and I are gonna start digging one heck of a hole; got any ideas on how to stop this big bully?”_ _ _ _

____“Now just a second!” Charles’ hands rested firmly on Lydia’s shoulders. “Lydia is going home, right now.”_ _ _ _

____“But, Dad—!”_ _ _ _

____Charles got down on his knee, turning his daughter so they were face-to-face. “Lydia, this is the second time in my life I almost lost you to some otherworldly nutcase. I’m not about to make a habit out of this.”_ _ _ _

____“Daddy, we can’t just,”_ _ _ _

____“Young lady, I’m not letting you out of my sight!” There was a note of finality, a card he liked to play in the past. “You’ll be safe in your room while we handle this.”_ _ _ _

____“But this is _my_ mess!” Lydia stared her father down, matching his stoney gaze to a T. “I know you’re not _seriously_ condoning I just leave something half-finished.”_ _ _ _

____“It is one of the life-coaching no-no’s,” Delia interjected._ _ _ _

____“Delia, you’re not serious.” Charles sounded completely exasperated. "This isn't the same as leaving homework incomplete, or not putting your dishes in the dishwasher."_ _ _ _

____The thirty-something straightened herself, slinging the shawl back around her neck. “Charles, she'll just find another way back in even if we send her away. And this ain’t my girl’s first rodeo with the paranormal,” she added, chest puffed with pride. “And, I want her here. With all of us. Doing, admittedly, the weirdest act of family bonding I’ve ever been a part of.”_ _ _ _

____The over-gorged monstrosity let out a rumbling roar, sending cracks spidering throughout what was once the graveyard. Charles grabbed hold of both girls and took a stumbling leap, the spot they once stood swallowed up by black nothingness._ _ _ _

____“Not to put a timer on this moment,” Adam called worriedly._ _ _ _

____“We’re gonna get digging! Deetz’,” Barbara shouted as she followed after Adam. “It’s up to you!”_ _ _ _

____As the Maitlands half ran, half flew over the jagged terrain, Lydia faced down against her living parents. They both stared at her for a moment, Charles struggling to find words to say. “I finally got you back.” He whispered hoarsely. “After Emily, and the house--Lydia, I _can’t.”__ _ _ _

____Lydia wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “Then do it with me.” Just like before. You trusted me to plan a sham of a wedding, so trust me now.”_ _ _ _

____A beat passed. Then, Lydia found herself picked up off the ground as her father hugged her back. “Okay.”_ _ _ _

____“Okay!” Delia clapped her hands excitedly. “The Deetz’ are back in business! Ah, so,” she glanced back at the creature, shuttering as it let out another ear-splitting scream. “What exactly is the plan, Lydia dear?”_ _ _ _

____Without skipping a beat, Lydia ran towards the hole she’d originally pushed Len down. It had been filled with inches of rain at this point, but she could still it; glinting, half-stuck the mud, was the amethyst necklace. “Dad and I are gonna fly up to the top and give that jerk a piece of our mind.” She said, hopping down into the pit with a splash._ _ _ _

____“How are you gonna,” Delia let out a surprised squeak as two broken halves of a broom came zooming underneath her feet, diving into the hole before lifting Lydia back up with it in one piece. “Oh. Okay, well, what should I do?”_ _ _ _

____Another panicked shriek pulled everyone’s attention to the Maitlands, darting around the muddy landscape as a dozen or so dripping hands came pouring off the monster’s base. “There’s no way they can make the sigil without help.” Lydia pushed the broom up to stepmother, grabbing her hand to show off the pink calcite. “You can protect them with this!”_ _ _ _

____Delia gently setting her hand atop of Lydia’s. “Honey, you know I fully endorse the ideals of crystal therapy, but this hardly seems the time.”_ _ _ _

____In response, Lydia slid off her broom and grabbed it by the hilt, aiming to slam it into Delia’s face._ _ _ _

____“Lydia--!” Charles leaned forward, only to stop as a burst of pink energy crackled to life in a semi-sphere around Delia. “W-wait, what happened?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s not all a crock, Daddy!” Lydia spun the broom back under her feet and hopped onto the handle. “Delia’s crystals actually have some weight in this world.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s right! Crystals aren’t completely--” Delia’s face scrunched up as she shot a look at the teen._ _ _ _

____“You got this, Delia.” Lydia flashed a thumbs up, face as serious as she could muster. “Let’s show that creep what daughters of the earth can do.” She then patted the empty space on her broom, staring directly at her father._ _ _ _

____Charles grimaced, slowly working one foot over the handle. “A-Are you sure there’s no other way up there?”_ _ _ _

____“Nope!” The minute she felt her father’s weight on the back, Lydia kicked off the ground, furiously waving to Delia as they climbed into the air._ _ _ _


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the final fight is upon us, but who's gonna walk out in one piece?

There was oh-so-much that could go south with this plan.  
Sure, it had finally stopped raining, which made it a million times easier to maneuver through the air. Still, Lydia couldn’t stop herself from calculating every worst-case scenario. She could’ve overestimated the power of Delia’s ring and gotten her to run straight into a minefield. She didn’t know if the Maitlands could be harmed here, if their sigil plan would even do anything against this colossal nightmare, or if it would’ve been better to just get everyone to safety and flown up herself. Even that plan had one obvious, glaring hole in it; last time she’d gone toe-to-toe with Len, Lydia had gotten completely thrashed. She nearly gotten devoured. She lost her best friend.  
“Temporary misplaced.” Lydia gritted her teeth, hands tightening around the broom’s hilt.

“What was that?”

The teen glanced behind her shoulder, her father’s face stark-white and clinging to the broom for dear life. Charles looked absolutely terrified, but it was still reassuring to have him there.  
Lydia pressed her back against his chest, briefly set at ease. “Nothing. I--I’m glad you’re here.”

Charles offered a smile, only to choke back a gasp. He suddenly lunged forward, hands overlapping Lydia’s on the broom as he yanked it to the side, just barely avoiding a black Hurst rocketing across the air. 

Lydia lurched, losing her balance completely and nearly sliding off the broom before her father’s arm wrapped around her waist. She'd gotten a good five-second viewing of the ground, determining that, yes, dropping from this high up would do more than just hurt. “I thought you drove a stick-shift, Daddy, not an _actual_ stick.” 

Charles just laughed nervously, a face that clearly read, ‘Oh-God-I-just-barely-caught-my-daughter-mid-air’. “Lydia--!” He pointed forward, drawing her attention back to the monster. Its shoulder was arched, arm currently in mid-overhand with a stretch limo in hand.

“Helloooo! Yes, you, up there!” Delia was nothing more than a technicolored pinprick to Lydia, but boy, could that voice travel. She was waving her hands frantically, a dozen or so pink bubbles drifting all around here. “Come on, then! I-I’ve seen wack-a-moles with faster reaction time than you!”

“Delia, _you’re_ the one who’s the mole in this scenario!” Lydia cried out. 

The creature turned, opting to smash the limousine over Delia. Bits of shrapnel and tires bounced every which direction as a much larger bubble bloomed overtop her, causing the creature visible irritation. It tried slamming its palm down next, only to let out a shriek as the ooze bubbled and hissed, evaporating on contact. 

“That’s my fiancée!” Charles hollered, throwing a triumphant hand in the air before quickly grabbing fast to the broom. “I thought she was crazy when she refused a diamond.”

“Starting to think I should’ve listened more during crystal therapy sessions,” Lydia added. 

Finally, the pair flew up and over the top of the creature’s head, getting a full aerial-view of the dream’s state. So much had been pulled apart and piled on top of the monster, leaving empty patches all across the landscape. It was a struggle to keep speed with the creature’s pace as every second, a new, clawed hand would tear into the sky and pull it closer to the top. They’d already broke through the first, hazy layer of familiar, purple clouds; not that Lydia was an expert, but it sure felt like time was running out. 

She positioned the broom just right, hands working to take off the amethyst necklace. “Here, Dad, you take this. I have Delia’s pink-stone thing on me, so I’ll be okay.”

Charles’ hand covered the crystal, subtly trying to keep it around Lydia’s neck. “I want you as safe as possible.”

“I’m not really safe if you can’t do anything to Lennard.” Lydia pointed out. “It’s easy to operate. Just, think of something you want done and it happens.”

“But, Lydia, I’m not as,” Charles’ brow furrowed, trying to think of a better way to phrase what was on both of their minds. “‘ _Spontaneous’_ , as you. Or Beetlejuice,” he grumbled under his breath. 

Lydia’s expression flattened. “Dad, this really isn’t the time to get stage fright. Or weirdly jealous?”

“Okay, okay!” Charles snapped. “Just, give it to me when you land, then. I may have a natural talent for flying, but landing is in the next chapter.”

“Oh, no,” Lydia shook her head, peering over as she positioned herself just above what looked like the top of, well, a tophat. “I’m just gonna jump.”

_“What?!”_ If Charles could get any paler, he just did. “Lydia, we’re still a good twenty feet up!”

“I’ll tuck and roll!” Lydia said. “You know, disperse the weight, use my momentum to even out and push me back on my feet?”

“Who taught you to do that?” Charles asked. 

Lydia blinked, slowly breaking out into a giggle. “ _You_ did, dummy!”

“I did?”

Lydia nodded, grinning. “Skipping the ‘how-to-land’ chapter runs in the family. Remember? I used to climb on top of everything when I was tiny-terror age. Mama made you teach me to roll; she said I’d find a way up the roof eventually,”

“So I might as well teach you how to get safely down.” Charles' smile was reminiscent, somber, yet he still let out a chuckle. “You _are_ your mother’s child.”

“Biologically half of yours, too.” Lydia leaned forward to give her father a kiss on the cheek, subtly slipping the amethyst over his neck. The broom wobbled slightly as the crystal flashed, getting used to the skin of its new owner. Charles let out a yelp, quickly steadying it as Lydia used the sudden momentum to swing down and drop. She was quickly approaching the top hat, shaping into the top of Len’s head. And he was none the wiser. 

“That’s right, ants!” She heard him cackle, hands marionetting what looked like thick, black strands of goop as the hands on the monster continued swatting at Delia and the Maitlands. “Swarm all you like; there’s literally nothing the likes of you could possibly do to me!”

His body went rigid as 112 pounds of sheer force slammed into him.

In hindsight, crashing into a living person was slightly different from rolling across her front lawn. Lydia lost her footing completely, ragdolling across the flat of the creature’s head. She dug her nails into the surface, already kicking herself for not changing out of her muddied and torn dress. Literally, the one time playing dress-up was actually life-and-death.

“And _there_ she is.” Pillars of black ooze pulled Len back to his feet, stretching him out as strands pierced back through his fingers. His head twisted around completely, bones cracking in his neck as a leaking smile cut across his face. “Lydia Deetz, the absolute _**stain**_ on the universe.” 

Lydia let out a quick curtsy, her own, coy smile resting along her face. “Lennard! I just came by to see if you needed some Ipecac. After all,” The playfulness in her voice dropped as quickly as her expression. “You ate something you _really_ shouldn’t have.” 

The demon pointed towards her, a bubbling jet of ichor wrapping around his arm like a snake before striking out. Lydia straightened, marching straight into the onslaught as a flash of pink enveloped around her. The ooze arched around her, hissing and spitting against the transparent, tinged surface. 

“This is your only chance at diplomacy,” Lydia called out. “And my demands are simple!” She threw her hand out, bubble shattering like glass that scattered every which direction. “Spit. Him. Out.” 

Len responded with a flick of his wrist. Thick strands of goop pulled tautly, the surface around his bubbling as a collection of star-faced monstrosities burst through. “I don’t take orders from a child, unfortunately.” 

“Howabout an _adult_ , then?” Charles came down from the sky like a majestic, horribly inebriated duck, still getting used to his new powers as evident by his jerking descent. It looked like something was trying to form beside him, but he kept changing his mind, creating what looked like a misshapen silver ball.  
Even Len couldn’t hold back a grimace.

“Oh, Daddy.” Lydia took a few steps forward, catching the broom out of the air as Charles managed to land without too much consequence. Now it was two against two dozen, the small, jittery star monsters surrounding Len like soldiers around their captain. 

“I’m happy to entertain your little, ‘coupe d'etat’, Lydia Deetz,” the dream demon looked skyward, a sneer cut across his face. “At least until I reach my final destination. It was oh-so considerate of you to bring more than just a snack,” he added, staring directly at Charles with a lick of his lips. 

Charles leaned in close to Lydia, visibly disturbed by the demon’s implication. “Can we stop him with just this?” He gestured to the broom and still-shifting ball above his shoulder. 

“I’m sort of hoping to get Beetlejuice back in the driver’s seat.” Lydia whispered back. 

“And if you can’t?”

Lydia shook her head, holding the broom like one would with a sword. “Positive thinking, Dad. Positive thinking.”

The star-headed creatures made the first move. The first four shot forward, a collection of claws and tentacles reaching to pull the Deetz’ under. Lydia swung with a huff, catching three by their tiny stomachs before launching them off to the side. A crackling, blue arch followed after, sending a jolt of electricity through the monsters as they were reduced to sludge. Using the momentum, she twisted the broom above her head, squashing the fourth like a particularly juicy bug. “Come on, Dad!” Picking up her broom, Lydia broke into a jog, glancing behind her shoulder as Charles followed suit, still carrying the misshapen, iron ball. “Daddy, turn it into _something!”_

“Like what?!” Charles shouted, barely stumbling out of the way as a star-face burst through the surface to try and snag his ankle. 

“Anything!” Lydia yelled back. She skidded to a stop, golf-clubbing another monster and stomping in the face of another. “Dad, it just has to do damage! Like, a sword, or an angry raccoon, or,” she let out a gasp, one of the star monsters inches away from her face. There was no way she could get her broom up fast enough. 

Lucky for her, a baseball happened to smash its teeth to pieces.

The monster flew back, skidding to the ground with the ball officially part of its face. Lydia stood over it for a second, watching as the baseball dissipated into a purple mist. “Y-yeah, or that.” 

“You said anything!” Charles snapped as he conjured a file organizer above a group before dropping it on down on their unsuspecting heads. 

“No no, it’s good!” Lydia reassured. She skipped out of the way of an entire mob’s worth of monsters, suddenly enticed by the flashing purple crystal around Charles’ neck. “They’re all headed towards you--keep their attention and I’ll take on Len!”

“Okay!” Charles’ voice cracked slightly, rapid-fire summoning a number of office supplies to combat against the creatures. God, but if things weren’t so dire, Lydia would find this absolutely hilarious. 

"Le~en!” Hope you've been enjoying this little power trip of yours!" Lydia steadied her broom as she dashed forward, path completely cleared of any obstacles. She then took a running leap, broom held over her head as she aimed to slam it down on Len’s head. "Cause I heard withdrawal's absolutely _killer."_

His cane appeared in the palm of his hand, deflecting a majority of the blow as the broom clashed against his. Sparks flew between the two as they squared off, Lydia 100% on the offensive as she aimed to take Len’s head off his shoulders. Though he was being pushed around, Len didn’t seem too perturbed. With one hand behind his back, he managed to parry Lydia’s onslaught, smirking the entire time. “Did you learn your technique by watching television?”

“Sure did.” Lydia’s broom caught the hook of Len’s can as she jerked down, sending Len’s chin directly into her thrusting knee. “And, look!” She cackled as Len staggered back. “Your face looks just as stupid as the Stooges’.”

The demon spat on the ground, a mixture of black blood and a few chipped teeth pieces. “Enjoy your petty victories, Lydia Deetz. There won’t be a thing you or your broken family can do once I reach the living world.”

The massive creature’s claws pierced through the cloud lining, managing to pull apart the uppermost part of the dream. Lydia could just barely make out the image of her room, a brief squig of panic overtaking her. As Len reached up, so too did the monster, the tips of its fingers just barely able to brush against the portal.  
Then, it let out an agonized shriek as those very tips were chopped off by a streak of white light.  
Lydia watched as the stumps plummeted back to the ground, glancing back up in time to see a set of luminescent threads stitch across the tear. “Yeah, about that,” Lydia grinned as something flashed on the ground. A circle had suddenly lit up around the monster, more of the strings piercing the monster’s flesh as it started to pull it back to the ground. Those beautiful, beautiful ghost-parents of hers managed to pull it off. 

She suddenly let out a choked gasp, black tendrils crushing her chest. Lydia flew across the surface, pulled uncomfortably close to Len’s face as the demon let out a snarl. “You must think your so very clever,” He hissed. “But it’s all temporary measures, Lydia Deetz.”

“Lydia!” Charles’ voice was full of parental fury. He charged forward over a mound of star-faced monsters, only to be swatted aside by a wave of Len’s hand. Lydia let out a shriek, trying desperately to turn her head towards her father before Len’s fingers grabbed her chin. 

“This could’ve been _so_ much easier for you,” Len grinned, finger caressing underneath her chin. “But, in the end, the bird found her way back into her cage.”  
He quickly recoiled as Lydia spat in his face, eyes filled with an uncontrollable rage. 

Then, much to Lydia’s surprise, he started to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know; something about Len’s laugh was off. Unnerving. 

Len wiped the spit from his eye, still chuckling. “Are you kidding, kid? That was a great shot! I would’ve never let you live it down if you missed from that range, though.” 

Dead silence hung between the two, only interrupted by Charles’ pained coughing. Len’s eyes were as wide as Lydia’s, the grip around her weakened considerably. She couldn’t help herself from grinning; thank you, tiny spark of hope. “What a weird thing to say!” she pointed out innocently. “So un-Len-like! Why, if I were to hazard a guess,” 

“Shut up!” Len’s fist tightened, causing something to break inside Lydia. “Can you even comprehend how _utterly_ powerless you are right now?! Or are all breather’s completely _blind_ to Death when it stares them down?”

“Get your hands off my daughter!” An iron poker swung across Len’s face, causing him to stagger back and release his hold. Charles was quick to gather Lydia up in his arms, the corner of his eyes already wet with tears. “Lydia, are you alright?”

Lydia gritted her teeth, refusing to cry because of this creep. She nodded, using Charles as support while she stood to face the demon. 

An eruption of black goop shot around Len as he jabbed a finger at the Deetz, eyes oozing. _**“I’m going to make your last moments absolute torture!”**_

In response, Lydia let out a chuckling snort. “Nice stripes, slick.”

The demon’s attention snapped to his sleeves, slowly turning monochrome as that heartwarming pattern began infecting the fabric. He let out a choking shriek, throwing his hand around as if to try and shake off the print. 

“Is it working?” Charles asked. “I mean, is Beetlejuice…?”

Lydia stumbled forward, abandoning her broom on the ground. “Come on, Beej! This guy’s a total chump!”

“Shut up,” Len hissed, cradling his hand as the stripes slipped further up his sleeve. 

“You’re _seriously_ gonna let this tea-drinking biscuit have his way?” Lydia shouted. “You don’t even _like_ tea!”

The stripes jumped past Len’s shoulder, his hair beginning to twist out in every direction. “Shut up!”

Lydia stepped right up to the dream demon’s face, smiling from ear to ear. “Let’s go home, BJ. No more sneaking around; I’ll personally hand you our front-door key.” 

Len froze, head craning to look up at Lydia. Briefly--so very, very briefly--those black eyes of his flickered back to slitted green. Her heart jumped up into her throat, a hand reaching out to take the demon’s. This was it. He was coming back. He reached out, trembling. 

Then, the demon snatched Lydia’s hand, nearly breaking her wrist.

“You are not in control, Lydia Deetz.”

She let out a shriek as Len threw her over the edge, nothing but empty air to catch her as she began to drop. Something instinctual managed to reach out and snag the rim of a broken water pipe, nearly yanking her shoulder from its socket. Lydia grunted, trying to swing her other hand to grab it as she heard Charles yelling above. “Daddy!”There was a moment of clashing, a flash of purple and stars. It was all Lydia could do just holding on, feet kicking against nothing. Her stomach was in absolute uproar, head spinning.  
Then, silence.  
“Daddy?” Whatever hopeful tone she had was quickly swallowed back up as Len appeared over the edge. He held out his once-infected arm, the stripes peeling from the fabric and tumbling lifelessly through the air. 

“You can’t pull out something that’s not there, Lydia Deetz.” Len said.

Lydia gritting her teeth, watching as the black-and-white stripes dissipated into a cloud of dust. “Don’t underestimate him.” she hissed. 

“Ooh, did I strike a nerve?” Len laughed, hopping down onto the pipe. His toe drove into Lydia’s fingers, pulling out a pained yelp as she briefly lost grip. The other hand finally swung up, catching the pipe’s inside while her fingers began throbbing at her side. “Let me ask you something, Lydia Deetz,” the demon continued in a nonchalant tone. “Have you ever died in a dream?”

Lydia’s blood ran cold. 

“I’ve never seen it happen myself,” Len went on, slowly pulling off one of his gloves as he looked skyward. The stitchwork was starting to break, its light fading with each passing second. “But I’ve heard if a breather perishes in the Realm of Subconsciousness, their physical body remains in the world of the living.” He reached his bare fingers down, gingerly brushed across Lydia’s. “I’d like to see that for myself, and thanks to you, I can.”

“Get your hand off me,” Lydia spat.

Len grinned, tongue darting between his lips. “This will be the only place you can say 'no' to me, Lydia Deetz.” 

He barely managed to finish the sentence before punching himself square in the face.

If Lydia wasn’t dangling for her life, she would’ve done it herself. Her skin was still crawling from his veiled implication, but that was quickly pushed aside as _Len kept punching himself._ She watched his arm completely revolt, going from throwing slugs to choking him out. Len let out a gasp, stumbling back onto the top of the amalgamation’s head, but not before a third arm burst from his stomach and wrapped around Lydia.  
And just as her fingers were ready to quit.  
Both were flung over the edge, Lydia noticeably put down far more delicately as Len continued floundering on his back. The third hand patted her promptly on top of her head before snapping backward, knocking the wind completely out of the demon’s chest. He let out an agonizing cry, the only arm he had in control grabbing for something--anything--before managing to wrap around what was once a car’s rebar. That too promptly began beating him senseless. 

Lydia only watched for a few seconds before her attention was pulled to someone’s muffled screams. “Daddy!” She spun around, finding Charles wrapped up in the black ichor. She slid to her knees, nails easily tearing pieces off as her father managed to shake off the rest. “Hang on, I’ll just--” She let out a gasp as Charles pulled her into a tight hug, his arms completely wrapped around her body.

“I thought I’d lost you.” His voice was a trembling whisper, tears flowing down his face and soaking Lydia’s shoulder completely. 

That did it. Now Lydia was in tears, smiling like an idiot while she threw her arms around Charles’ neck. “S-Sorry. But, you’re stuck with me until I get accepted into Julliard.” 

Charles broke into wobbly laughter. He picked himself and his daughter up off the ground, pulling just enough away that she could stand on her own. His hand was still on her shoulder, a protective weight as the two watched Len get pummeled on the ground. 

“What did you do?!” Len shrieked, managing to fight off his arms long enough to turn and face the Deetz’.

Lydia gave him an innocent grin. “What, moi? You expect too much from me.” With her father by her side, she sauntered over to the dream demon, bending over as she pinched her fingers together. “You were this close, though! Almost had it all, kid. And then you crossed one of BJ’s lines.” 

“Beetlejuice has boundaries?” Charles asked incredulously. 

Lydia nodded, watching as all three arms snapped around Len’s body. “He doesn’t have many, so, it’s impressive that Lenny-boy here managed to find one." She then put her hands around Len’s face, lifting it gently so they were eye-to-eye. “You were right before; you shouldn’t have gotten greedy.”  
A soft, pink glow began to radiate off her hands as she dug her fingers into his skin, yanking back with every bit she had left in her. An ethereal ripple ran across Len’s visage, the demon letting out a pained yelp. “Dad, help me out!”

Charles’ arms overlapped Lydia’s, the color intensifying as he helped to pull. It was like watching a sticker peel from a hot surface; Len’s body seemingly separated into a second entity, coated in a shimmering pink aura as it slowly exposed Beetlejuice’s underneath. With one more heave, the tension snapped, sending the Deetz stumbling back. Lydia ended up falling over completely, leaving Charles to hold the dream demon by the scruff of his shirt. 

“So,” Lydia pushed back to her feet, patting her dress down with a sneer on her face. “You wanna do the honors, Daddy?”

Len’s face paled as Charles’ face mimicked that of his daughter’s. “I’ve been waiting to take out this trash since I first laid eyes on him.”

“W-wait--!” Len’s voice jumped an octave, his body swaying uselessly in the air as Charles started towards the edge of the amalgamation. “Let’s talk about this!”

“Ooh, sorry,” Lydia crooned as she skipped alongside her father. “But that answer is incorrect! Lucky for you, we’ve got a fabulous consolation prize for our dear runner up.” She gestured to the multi-story drop below her. “Tell him what he’s won, Daddy!”

Charles held the dream demon out, laughing. “Well, daughter dearest, he's gotten himself an all-expense, one-way trip to the ground!"

The baku’s face blanched completely. “You want something! Every breather does! You’ve seen my power here--I-I could bring your mother back! No strings attached!”

Lydia grabbed the collar of Len’s vest, any trace of playfulness gone from her voice. 

The demon audibly gulped. 

“Thanks," Lydia began coldly. "But I’ve got two others waiting for me down below.”

Charles looked between her and Len, shrugging. “Couldn't have said it better myself.” He slowly began to open up his fist, finger by finger. The dream demon’s begging became more and more profuse the more he slid free until finally, Charles let go completely.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia's dream finally comes to a close; but will it in the way she wants to?

God, but it was just the most _satisfying_ sight in the world. Lydia was grinning from ear to ear as she watched Len plummet to the ground. Oh, he tried to fight back, tried grabbing hold of something or use whatever little power he had left. But, that pink sparkle around him kept his arms tight at his side. She only wished she had her phone to document this precious, _precious_ memory. 

“Goodbye, now! See you next fall!” Charles called down, only to wince as a fist punched him in the arm. “What? Lydia, that was a perfectly appropriate quip.”

“Daddy, I didn’t...?” Lydia let out a delighted shriek as she watched a striped arm painfully wind back to the body of her favorite demon uncle-brother. It gave up about halfway, flopping against the ground like a dried-out hose; Lydia nearly tripped over it as she made a mad-dash across. 

Beetlejuice was still sprawled out on the ground, very much looking like he’d been chewed up and spat back out. His suit was more of a wreck than usual, covered in still-dripping stains and torn around the edges. Somehow, he looked sicklier than usual, hair matted down and half-opened eyes holding the darkest bags Lydia had ever seen. But, he was smirking. He was okay; that much was certain.  
At least, Lydia was certain, until he nearly hacked up a lung.  
Beetlejuice jerked to his side, body spastic as black ooze spattered across the surface. The teen was quick to sit him up, patting his back while he got it all out. “You okay?”  
Was she crying? Her face felt wet, hands trembling as she fought to hold the demon upright.

Beetlejuice snickered weakly, his unwound hand wiggled towards Lydia’s face. He managed to get it up and around her shoulders like a feathered boa, finger poked lightly at her cheek. “Aww...was widdle Wydia w-worried over the swupid wat-bastward~?”

His voice was hoarse, heavy with fatigue Lydia couldn’t even begin to imagine. She let out a giggling sob, tears streaming in buckets down her face. It quickly devolved into sob, the teen throwing herself around the demon as she wrapped him up in a trembling embrace. He was back. He was _back_. The world could spin out completely, for all she cared; she had her best friend back and wasn’t going to let go for anything. Even if Beetlejuice clearly looked uncomfortable during the entire, one-sided exchange.

“O-Okay, I wasn’t,” He looked completely beside himself, experimentally wiggling every few seconds to try and shake her off. “Holy crap; are you, uh, going for a world record, here?”

Lydia only hugged him tighter, head tilting up so she could scowl at him properly. “You are going to bask in this affection and like it, mister.” 

The demon’s face flushed, hair turning a similar orangey-pink. “Seriously, it--it wasn’t that big of a deal.” He managed to stammer out. 

“That’s a bit of an understatement, Mr. Juice.”

Beetlejuice’s hair briefly flipped to white as Lydia spun her head around. Charles had snuck up behind her and taken a knee (even now holding a good foot or two over the demon). He looked contemplative for a few moments, only to suddenly raise his hand. The demon visibly flinched, then, looked utterly befuddled as a cup of water appeared in Charle’s grip.

Lydia held her breath. 

The two just stared at each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Eventually, Beetlejuice made a move towards the cup, inspecting the water thoroughly before taking a sip. “Huh.” He almost looked disappointed. “You missed a golden opportunity to poison me, pops.”

Charles' expression was carefully neutral; Lydia wasn’t sure if that scared her less or more. When he spoke, he chose each word precisely, like he was speaking to a new business partner. “Mr. Juice, I don’t think I have to explain the _numerous_ problems I have with you, especially when it comes to your influence regarding my daughter.”

All Lydia could do was grimace. Oh, God, it was like watching the Hindenburg go down.

“From our past interaction,” Charles continued. “You’ve shown yourself to be a reckless, selfish individual, who’d happily jump to murder if the opportunity presents itself.

“Yeah, that’s not exactly,” Beetlejuice began.

“I’m not finished.”

The demon quickly tipped the rim of the cup to his lips, noisily--nervously--slurping the liquid down. He waved a hand as if gesturing for Charles to continue, though, it was likely to try and cover up his discomfort.

Lydia watched, somewhat stunned, as her father’s expression softened. “I still trust you about as far as I can throw you, but I also just watched you fight tooth-and-nail to protect my Lydia from, and I say this with absolute sincerity,” his expression flattened. “Someone who was more of a sexual deviant than you.”

Beeltejuice nearly choked on his water. “W-wait, is that a compliment?” He asked.

“Beej,” Lydia squeezed his shoulder, face strained. “Shut up. Daddy’s trying to be,” she paused, her heart skipping a beat. “Wait, _are_ you trying to be…?”

Charles extended his hand toward the demon, nodding slowly. 

Lydia forgot how breathing worked. Head spinning, she looked between her father and Beetlejuice, fists balled up and pressed against her chest to stop them from shaking. Holy crap, this was really happen. It happened plenty of times in her dreams, sure, but now she was dreaming and it was actually transpiring. Her father had some tiny, _tiny_ , _**tiny**_ respect for Beetlejuice--she would take it and run full-speed with it. After they were all safely awake, of course. 

Beetlejuice, meanwhile, just stared at Charles’ hand, face screwed up in confusion. “Gee, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, hair flashing an even brighter orange. “I’d love to s-spot you, but, you know, my wallet disintegrated in that there demonic stomach acid, so,”

“Oh my God,” Lydia grabbed his hand and forced it into her father’s. Beetlejuice visibly prickled at the contact, flashes of yellow and white ran through his hair as the two shook hands. After a moment, the demon put some effort in on his hand, shaking Charles’ back with a hesitant smile.  
Only to suddenly lurch forward as the ground beneath them began to shake. 

Charles’ arms instinctively reached for Lydia, keeping her securely in place as a low moan rumbled throughout the monster. “What was _that?”_

Lydia held herself steady in her father’s arms, glancing around at the quickly-crumbling surface. “Beetlejuice?”

Beetlejuice shook as violently as the next tremor. The poor demon looked completely disheveled, barely keeping himself together. “J-Just curious,” he groaned, doubling-over on his hands and knees. “Was this eyesore held together by a certain British fuckwit?”

A sharp crack reverberated across the sky in response.

Lydia scrambled out from underneath Charles, going for her broom abandoned by the wayside. “Daddy--Beetlejuice--the amethyst!” There were too many immediate thoughts to process into a coherent sentence. Thank God her father was fluent in teenage panic-speak. 

In one fluid motion, Charles slipped Beeltejuice’s arm over his neck and held the amethyst outward. It shimmered dimly, flickered dangerously, then fell to pieces in the palm of Charles’ hand. His head swiveled to the demon, eyes wide. 

“Don’t look at me!” Beetlejuice protested. “ _You’re_ the one that wore it out.” He pushed himself free, wobbling a bit before managing to stand upright on his own. For approximately three seconds before the ground underneath crumbled away. 

Paternal reflexes kicked in; Charles managed to snag the demon around his waistband, pulling him across before gathering him under his arm. “Beetlejuice,” He hissed between his teeth. “Lydia will have an absolute _fit_ if you go and throw your life away now.”

“I don’t like people just unexpectedly touching me!” Beetlejuice shouted back.

_“You_ don’t seem to have a problem grabbing others unexpectedly!” Charles snapped. 

Beetlejuice's hair flared up, flashing between a bright red and pale yellow. “Hey, I at least keep my hands supple and warm; would it _kill_ you to rub yours together first?”

“Could we _**not**_ right now, you two?!” Lydia managed to dig the broom’s handle into the creature as she straightened herself. “I don’t need to watch your _very_ fragile truce breaker faster than this thing is!” Her scowl quickly turned to panic as she lurched forward, her boom suddenly sinking deep into the creature’s skull. “Ah, okay--the portal’s still above us, so if you just get me through, I should wake up! And then there’s no apocalyptic dream for the rest of you to be in, so you'll just go back to your own heads?”

The lack of response from Beetlejuice wasn’t reassuring for more than one reason. 

“Beej, please,” Emily pleaded. “Daddy?"

Charles did his best to jostle the demon awake, only to yield closed eyes and shallow breaths. “Honey, he’s not doing alright.”

“I _know_ that!” Lydia’s voice jumped an octave, body suddenly heavy and exhausted. “But he knows more about the RoS than any of us, and if I slip up, it’s going to get everyone killed!” She was so close; why did the world literally start breaking down when everything was finally going right?

“Lydia,” Charles hoisted Beetlejuice up as he made his way to his daughter. “Sweetheart, this isn’t all on you. We’re going to figure this out together, alright?”

Not wanting to break down again, Lydia opted to nod. 

“Good. Now, then, let’s just think this out.” Charles paused, suddenly snatching his daughter up as a giant fissure threatened to swallow her up. “Not an ideal circumstance, but our family seems to thrive under pressure.” He shifted Lydia in his arm, trying to distribute weight between her and the semi-conscious demon. “Ah, okay--well, the Maitlands can fly, right? They can catch us!"

“Maybe? But I’ve seen first-hand how much ghost powers work here,” Lydia began. "That is to say, they tend to _not_ work at all." 

Charles nodded, skipping back a bit as spidering cracks followed after him. “W-what about Delia’s crystal? It could catch us before we hit the ground!”

“I have no idea if it’ll protect us from fall damage!” Lydia said. "I've only seen it activate against demon attacks."

Another sharp crack brought forth a gaping hole, causing Charles to scamper back even more. He hefted his daughter farther hip his hip, visibly wearing down from all the weight. “Sweetheart, you’re giving me a lot of ‘can’t’ right now. What happened to putting out positive vibes?”

He was right, but God, it was so hard to do right now. Lydia was tired, worn out, completely drained of any reserve hope. She just wanted to be home, in bed, past this awful nightmare. How was a fifteen-year-old supposed to handle all this? She could barely keep it together after that big fight with...  
“Beetlejuice.” Her head swiveled towards the still out-of-it demon. “Dad, _you_ can wake me up!”

“What?”

The head of the creature began raining down in pieces. There wasn’t much time left. “I can send you back with Beetlejuice--you can wake everyone up, and then me! No one gets left in my self-destroying dream, no relying on, a ‘maybe’ chance. There’s no risk!”

“Except to _your_ life!” Charles cried. “Lydia, for God’s sake,”

“Kid,” Beetlejuice got a hand on Lydia’s shoulder and squeezed it weakly. “You can’t. I--I’ll _l-literally_ kill you if,” His voice caught, unable to look at her anymore. 

“You two trusted me to get this far,” Lydia rested her hand of both men’s faces, trying to exude a reassuring aura. “I got this. Just, you know...don’t be afraid to bust out an air horn or two.”  
One final, sharp crack echoed outward. The last of the creature’s infrastructure had broken; they were starting to fall. Lydia gently pushed free of her father’s embrace, giving a wave as both he and Beetlejuice reached out. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!” They vanished with a snap, leaving Lydia to free-fall on her own.

It was almost surreal; she was literally watching the worst day of her life crumple to the ground. Ignoring the fact that becoming a comatose patient was a very real concern, Lydia couldn’t help but get stuck in the moment. The Universe wasn't being very subtle about it, sure, but it felt like she was actually moving past this. It felt like...real progress. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. God, she couldn't even imagine her past self imagining this as a possibility.  
Just like that, her tears turned cold, heavy, full of regret and shame from past mistakes. She almost let herself fall like this.

She was almost okay with this. 

A whimpering sob slipped out from the teen as the thought rolled around her mind. Even now, at the apex of her triumph over this day, something still pulled at her. Something still lurked at the darkest corners of her mind. Something still called her weak, told her she was broken, said this was a hurtle she could never climb over. There was always going to be something; she was always going to be falling.

"But you've got a lot of someones to catch you this time, baby girl."

Lydia closed her eyes, the warm, heavy sensation all around her now. The words enveloped her like a blanket, just like she knew it always had.  
She took a deep breath, ignoring the sensation of falling altogether. Counted down from three, slowly, squeezing the hand of someone she knew would always be there for her.

And, slowly.

Lydia Deetz woke up.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two months after the event of the musical. Even with her new family of four, Lydia still finds herself dreaming of Dead Mom. But when a certain rat-bastard makes a guest appearance, the teen’s not sure if this is just a result of tricky demon magic or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia awakes to a whole new world.

But she didn't wake up gracefully. Lydia was nearly pushed off the bed by the sheer number of hands trying to shake her awake. Her eyes shot open, greeted by four _very_ concerned parental figures and one half-asleep brother-uncle.

"Lydia--!" 

A collection of relieved sighs swept through her room. Everyone tried hugging at once, resulting in some weird, mishappen cluster of various arms and bodies squeezing up against her. Like a collection of puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit. "Okay, can't breathe," Lydia wince, her sides aching. 

"S-sorry," Adam started out. "We didn't see you when that giant, Jenga monstrosity was coming down so fast,"

"And I couldn't do my ghost-hands, and I just kept picturing you and Charles," Barbara picked up. 

"And Charles!" Delia swung her arms around her fiancé's neck, noisily kissing him against the cheek. "How did you ever manage to get _back_ here?" 

Charles simply turned to Beetlejuice, half slumped against the edge of the bed. The rest of the eyes followed suit as the demon lifted his head. 

"Wh-what?" He asked with a nervous laugh. "I got somethin on my face?"

Lydia didn't even have the heart to jump on a prime, teasing opportunity. She was too busy watching her father; Charles had noticeably stiffened, expression completely unreadable. How much did he actually mean back in the RoS? Was it just nerves--adrenaline--that made him show a brief squick of respect to the demon? "Daddy?" He was quiet for a moment, then tension tangible in the air. The Maitlands, Delia; everyone was looking at him now, a mixture of anticipation and exhaustion plain on their faces.

Then, Charles Deetz, a stiff man of business, with the paternal instinct and build of a God-damn gorilla, extended a hand forward. "I meant what I said," he began softly. "As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome in this house, Beetlejuice.

Lydia's heart felt like it could just explode. She gently pulled Beetlejuice's hand out of his back pocket, pushing the top of his wallet back within. "You mean it?"

"Within reason," Charles quickly added. "I'd like to know whenever he's coming. In advance."

The Maitlands exchanged looks, acutely aware that this was going to be a thing and they should really have some input to it. "Uh, and he can't stay late on weeknights!" Adam piped in.

Barbara nodded curtly, "Y-Yes! You can't just let school fall to the wayside, Lydia." 

"I'd just like to know so I know to fix another plate," Delia added. 

"And your door stays open if you two are in your room!" Charles' voice jumped slightly as he spoke. "And-and no interdimensional travel without asking one of us first. And--"

"Dad." Lydia gestured to Beetlejuice; his head had slumped over against the mattress, audible Z's fluttering out of his mouth as he snored. "You guys literally put him to sleep with all these rules and regulations. Can't we work out the details after breakfast? Or, brunch," she added, catching a glimpse at her clock. "Given how we seemed to have slept the morning-time away." 

"Oh, Charles," Delia put a hand to her mouth. "The office--they're going to wonder why you didn't come in today."

A brief flicker of panic crossed Charles' face before he yawned loudly. "You know what? I'm taking a me-day today."

There was a collective gasp around the bedroom. "Wow, Charles," Barbara said. "I don't know if I've ever heard you say those words before." 

"Hey, I think I deserve it." Charles' grin was tired, another yawn managing to slip out. "I doubt anyone at HQ ever had to duke it out with a demon, and with nothing but a stapler to boot." 

"That's a sentence I'm disturbed to say feels commonplace, now." Adam slipped off Lydia's bed with a stretch of his arms, hand extended for Barbara to take. "Hey, why don't you and Delia go back to bed for a bit, Charles? Barbara and I can cook something up, and we can watch Beetlejuice and Lydia in the living room."

"Ooh, yeah!" Barbara drifted across Lydia's bed, clearly ecstatic to have her ghostly abilities back as she let herself be pulled into her husband's embrace. "Adam makes killer _crêpes au beurre noisette_."

"And with the _proper_ amount of sage to boot." Adam added. "You guys are gonna freak. Promise." 

Charles rose heavily, Delia following suit. He (attempted) to put a hand on Adam's shoulder, eyes shining. "Adam, I'd kiss you if I could."

"N'one's stoppin yah..." Beetlejuice mumbled in his sleep. He nearly rolled off the bed, caught by the scruff of the collar by Lydia. 

"Before you head off to bed, Daddy...?" She made sure to put on her brightest smile, eyelashes fluttering.

Charles let out a sleepy groan. "If he bites me, I'm taking back every word I said."

\---

After a few minutes of wrestling, Lydia had finally managed to get comfortable on the couch. Beetlejuice refused to lay out on one of the pull-out chairs, so here she was, slouched over on the end with her legs propped up on one the footrests. The demon's legs were across her lap, his entire body covered by one of the Maitland's old, heavy, Mexican blankets from the attic. She watched the couple cook up a storm in the kitchen, unable to stop grinning at their cutesy antics. "When do you think they got this thing, Beej?"

Beetlejuice's bones audibly popped as he stretched outward, like a cat trying to get comfortable. "It's probably their, 'first shag' blanket." He reasoned. "It's a very important keepsake, you know." 

"And you know this from experience?" Lydia asked innocently.

That got a chortle out of the demon--a weak, wheezing one, but one nevertheless. "Haha. Nice." 

Lydia shifted slightly, elbow propped against the couch's armrest as she rested her chin under her hand. She stared at Beetlejuice quietly, still processing that, yes, he was really here on her couch and not completely banned from her household. Or swimming in some other demon's stomach. 

"Somethin on your mind, Lyds?"

The teen nodded slowly. "When isn't there, though?"

Beetlejuice's hand rested against this forehead, a loud groan escaping from his chest. "You're not still thinking about our fight, are you?" She didn't even get a chance to respond; pinching his fingers together, the demon started pulling what looked like an absurdly long list from his head. The paper bounced against the ground, rolling along the living room floor as he just kept pulling more and more out. "Cause, let me tell you, I had a lot of thinking time during my stay in Chateau-de-Fuckwit." 

"Beej,"

"No, seriously," Beetlejuice tried sitting up, managing a half-slouch against the armrest. His hair was a myriad of faded purples and yellows; he really felt bad about this, Lydia realized with a start. "This is a pretty comprehensive list--I think you'll find I've included everything you were going to say, and maybe some things you didn't even think up yet. I'm pretty experienced in the field of disappointing people," he added nonchalantly. "So I'm expectin an A for this. Maybe throw a few pluses behind it." 

Lydia managed to bend out enough to swipe the bottom have of the list. She held in her lap, watching the demon visibly recoil into himself, only to watch his eyes widen as she started crumpling up. "I'm not totally innocent," she said. "It takes two to tango, after all." Lydia tossed the list behind the couch without a second thought. "I wanted to prove you deserved to be here, but I ended up almost getting you killed, and for real this time." Her body flopped over, head gently settling against Beetlejuice's stomach. "Nothing and no one else shouldn't have mattered; I care about you, and everyone else can suck it."

Beetlejuice's hands move to push Lydia off, but, seemed to reconsider. They settled against her back, the demon's head resting against the armrest as he let out a sigh. "Okay, w-well," He maneuvered the blanket so it covered them both up. "I still think I should apologize."

Lydia lifted her head, waiting. 

Beetlejuice made a face. "What? I said I _think_ I should."

The teen snickered, arms wrapping around his waist. "For someone I consider to be a professional wordsmith, you _suck_ at making people feel better."

"Hey, actions speak louder anyway." Beetlejuice let out another yawn, hair faded to a neutral green. "And making people feel better is what crêpes are for--jab me in the ribcage when they're done, yeah, Lyds?"

Lydia nodded, her own head settling back onto the demon. It took a few minutes for his breathing to slow, a gentle in-and-out that suggested complete and utter peace. Her eyelids grew heavier with each passing second; she curled her legs in, nuzzling into the blanket's exterior. 

Lydia had a feeling that, even with everything she'd seen and all she could imagine, there wasn't a single thing she could dream up that could top this moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, it's finished! This is one of the first fics I've written in a number of years and I'm just thrilled at the response it's gotten. I'd like to thank MY bffff for life, AmberAstra, for throwing me into the wild world of Beetlejuice the Musical. This has seriously helped loosen up my writing muscles and given me a whole new drive to write for myself. 
> 
> Time to get sappy; I recently lost my job in a field I thought I was supposed to do. I didn't know really what else to do--I'd gone to four years of college for this--so I started taking writing commissions for whoever could pay. It was hard to find the time and drive to write my own story ideas, especially when it seemed like the Universe didn't care about my own stuff. But finishing this massive, 20K+ story is proof that a passion project can get finished. 
> 
> So thank you, everyone! This is a subject I've still got tons of ideas for, so stick around for the next installment~! 
> 
> Or I'll kill yah myself~


End file.
